This isn't love.

She looked at him with her two eyes and her brain. She analyzed the curve of his lips, the shape of his nose, of his crooked eyebrows.

This wasn't love.

It's a strange feeling to look at someone who has been such a grand part of your life and to realize you would be okay without them around. The "good morning" messages do not hold the same weight; their presence is no longer craved by every once of your being. You hope it won't happen, and yet it does.

His laugh became a burden and his tears left her untouched.

This wasn't love.

It had been. She'd loved him for the vision he gave her. She had loved him for the comfort, the incredible peace in constant fire and the warmth of his hands laced through hers. It felt like they'd be lost without each other, like the distance between their bodies could be measured in units of heartache.

She analyzed the curve of his lips and realized she didn't feel the same way when she kissed them. She looked at the shape of his nose and realized she didn't adore it when it lightly brushed against hers. She looked as his crooked eyebrows and saw them frown.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can feel it", he said.

And he looked at her. He looked at her with all his heart. He saw the shape of her beautiful hips, the dimple at the small of her back and the stars in her eyes. He looked at her and saw the world revolve around her single being.

He looked at her with desire and lust, because he was a fool.

He looked at her, at his world, because this was love.