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i used to think that love was late night kisses, arms in the dark. i thought that the way i knew i loved him was the way that my heart stopped when he walked in a room, my breath catching in my throat when he whispered my name. i thought that love, real love, could be proved by all that he made me feel when he was around, all the stirrings in my body and the longings in my heart.

now i know the truth. i know that love is what's left when all that is stripped away. love is wanting to keep him with me even without all the frills of romance, without the passion and heart palpitations and flowers and letters and sharing a bed. i know what love is, now, because even though we need eachother less, or differently, or whatever it is, we still need eachother, and not for anything but eachother. love is for a person, their simple self, without their doing anything, without my doing anything when they're near.

love is not shown. it is.