Sometimes love is quiet.
Sometimes love speaks to you
in hushed, tender phrases
and you think
that you have transcended bliss.
Sometimes love sneaks up on you.
Sometimes you turn around and there it is,
hands stretched out towards you
and a quiet smile suffusing its features.
Sometimes love is a shoulder
on which you can collapse,
break, pour out your wounded soul.
Sometimes love is the something
deep within you that longs to be known,
the something that rejoices in soft touches
and quiet words of adoration.
Sometimes love is falling to your knees
singing unknown hymns of devotion.
Sometimes love just is.