What is love

What is love

Not a question really, more of a statement

 

His hands roughly massage the arch of my bare right foot

He does it because he loves me, he does it because he wants to make me feel good, relax, at ease

He does it because he is a beautiful soul who cares more about his wife than anyone or anything else

And he would do it forever, without having to be asked

 

The feelings of love, that have grown from small sprouts of attraction into stalks of the deepest bond

Eternal, life-devouring, my other half

Some search their whole lives to find this or feel a fraction of it on any given day

 

On this Tuesday night, I am unapologetically drowning in it

I never want it to fade, we never want it to subside

All I can be is thankful for him

Diligent in loving him back

Careful to never take it for granted.

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