What is love?
Is it the candle lit dinners
or the times we went to bed
The times we wrested on the floor
and the words we never said
Perhaps its the physical passion
Excitement, hope, longing,
And knowing someone so well
They don't have to say a word
To know how they've been feeling.
The amount of times I've questioned
What we actually feel
But it took, lying in your arms
Feeling safe, warm, wanted,
To realise that maybe love isn't fireworks
Not all of the time, its security and
Knowing, that no matter what
That person wont go away.
You are my heart.
