My love is like the rain. Starting as a drizzle. Turning into a cloudburst. It soaks you to your bone.
My love is like a cherry. A small bud that turns into a blossom. And then it turns into delicious fruit.
My love is like a song. A melody once heard; it turns into the most important piece of music ever played.
My love is like sand. Graced with lightning, it becomes a work of art. One of its kind.
My love is like spring. New and beautiful. Filled with tears too?
My love is like summer. Hot and passionate. Searing heat burns my skin.
My love is like autumn. A breeze. Comforting. Ever changing.
My love is frail and filled with desire. Not with demands, but with longing for an everlasting story.
My love is like the words I write. For you. Only for you. Raw. Unmasked. All consuming.
My love is hidden underneath layers of fears and doubts. But it is not hopeless. It can easily be found and uncovered.
My love is your love. That’s the way it feels.