Love

is                             the white-hot

burning, scorching, consuming

                                fire of a thousand

                                dying suns. It is the

gentle, soft, docile

                                caress of the morning sun

                                upon fresh dew-coated

                                blossoms. It is the

wild, reckless, savage

                                monsoon of two hearts

                                being torn apart much

                                too soon after meeting

                                the other. It is the

beautiful, awe-inspiring, remarkable

                                idea that out of seven

                                billion people, at least

                                one will find you to

                                be their idea of perfect

                                It is much too

complex, elaborate, intricate

                                to have just one

                                definition.