Love is when the sky is red, and pink, and blue sometimes.
Two people don’t fall in love; two people create love.
You know you love someone, when you can’t sleep at night, when they are your 2 am thoughts.
When you can’t eat, because butterflies keep screaming in your stomach.
When you share your fries, even though you’re still hungry.
When you let them win a board game on purpose, because it’s nice to see them joyful, because when they’re joyful, so are you.
When you buy them gifts, not only on birthdays or anniversaries, but whenever you feel like it.
Love is rosy cheeks, and walks, and laughs, and clouds sometimes.
Love is crying, and fighting, and detesting as well.
Love is being pitiful and insane and selfish.
Love doesn’t know colour, appearance, gender or wealth.
Love is strange.
Love is when the sky is red, and pink, and blue sometimes...