Love to me

will always be

walls that we

shattered,

mountains we

conquered

and

stifling deserts we

crossed.

I will paint it

in the flaming hues

of compassion

and it will dance

with me,

robed in the warmth

of soft cotton.

It will ring with your

summer laughter,

your winter tears.

It will echo

oceans of struggle

colliding with vulnerable

shores.

It's soul

will be scarred,

marred

with disappointment

bruised by loss

but calloused

with years of endurance.

And I will know it

by scent;

by lavender embedded

in your pores

and by cologne

that stung

bare nerves.

It's eyes

will remain

tendrils of

sweet chocolate

and it's smile

will always curve

into something

soothing and

familiar.

Love to me,

will never change

from

everything you've ever

been,

all that you choose to remain

and everything you will be

that time

could never fade.

So,

if love

is a lie,

then time must be

too,  because love

to me

is the minutes I spent

with you.