Love is cosmic. The language of love is universal. It speaks of unconditional terms. In unlimited time and space.
Love is not a perception, or the feeling of like and dislike. It’s just the way it is: illogical, irrational, but so damned real. Both the pain, and pleasure, are real.
My man, he almost always get me on my nerve. And I, on his. We argue a lot when far away from each other. Sometimes saying things we didn’t really mean it. We hurt each other bad with our words, and then forgive one another just like that.
When we’re near, we don’t say a word. We don’t need to. Unless simple chit chats, jokes and whatever things make us laugh. The rest, we let the language of love runs through the atmosphere. It touches our skin and sparks our brain. Just by a single glance, I know what he wants, and he knows what I want. In such moment, our silence became powerful noises in our minds.
I know my man is far from perfect. But I love him. It means, I love his entire person: physically and psychologically. I love his strong body, and I love his fat belly at the same time. I love his kindness, and I love his sharp tongue. Well, I may not “love” his flaws, but I should be the one endure it, accept it, and deal with it. Without complaining.But because I love him, I do my best to fit myself for him. So that I could make him comfortable, and happy.
And if he loves me, he would do the same to me.
The question is, does he?