True love is him watching "500 Days of Summer" with you
for the hundredth time
and not complaining even once.
True love is him waiting patiently
outside your gate for half an hour
because you get ready at the pace of a turtle.
True love is him not spitting out
the dish you cooked
that tastes like boiled grass and dirt.
True love is him holding back your hair
while you puke your guts out
and not saying "I told you so"
to your insistence that you can hold your liquor.
True love is him gazing dreamily
at your makeup-free, splotchy
and pimple-ridden face.
True love is when he heads out
in the middle of the night in search of ice cream
because you suddenly had a craving for it.
True love is him lugging
your one-ton bags for you
up and down the stairs of train stations.
True love is his hug that
follows your tearful apology.
True love is him letting you go
when you tell him the spark is gone
and you're no longer happy.
True love is him still
keeping your picture in his wallet
after all those years.
True love is what you fail to realize
you've had all along
when you're so caught up in your own definition of
True Love
by @purple_porpoise (Rain X)
YOU ARE READING
Au nom de l'amour
PoetryAu nom de l'amour (In the name of love) is an anthology of literary pieces written by different writers, including me, which contains all feels about love. In this anthology, we will dive into a world full of perceptions about love. Are...
