in-love

To live with you is to live.To live without you is to die.

Autumn is hereand I am in love.My heart has taken residence in my mind.I pick the crisp ochre leaves and put them in my pocket.I am in love.

A heart in love is a thriller book of many stories

I sing, not because I'm happy, but because I'm in love with the world.

Don__ make the mistake of looking down on your partner. You__e only on that pedestal because they put you up there.

Whenever you keep score in love, you lose.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn__ you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

Like a pair of old slippers,I feel comfort andwarmth as I slip into you.No, that is too crude.Like the match to the wick,I ignite when we touch.My counterpart andlife's purpose.Yes, as though I've known you my whole life.Every scar, every failurehas become an affirmationof what should be:You.Yes, as though I've loved you my whole life.

With you, I am. Without you, I am not.

The only path wide for us all is love.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here__ another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

As married people, we dwell on a spectrum between happy and unhappy, in love and out of love, and we move back and forth on that line decade by decade, year by year, week by week, even hour by hour.

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn__ make it better.

You can be kind only when you are in love.

Now I sense the perfume of flowers like seeing a new thing.I know they smell just as well as I know I existed.They__e things known from the outside.But now I know with my breathing from the back of my head.

A good lover? One percent talent and ninety nine percent hard work.

Love fills the infinite.