I wrote a poem about being in love..here's part of it.


When she met him, he was the only thing beautiful to her; so she stopped writing, really the only way anything lovely would come out of her.
Nothing she created was anything compared to him.
She started to feel like she was going to explode for a few days, but then they started to make love.
She was relieved and in a whirl of stardust and moonshine
everytime they touched.
She was making something gorgeous with him,
and even if they didn't for days,
she was okay;
because the beauty of it all clung to her skin hours and hours afterward.

there's the jist of love for me.

do you feel like you're going to explode when you aren't with him/her?