She looks at me and blames me for all of the ways that you don't love her.
Love is stillness quaked only by the leaves' cascading pirouettes.
We talk about what love is and what it isn't self-assuredly, telling each other what looks right and wrong.
Just like the dead limbs and overgrowth of trees, it is superfluous. Let it all go.
His gentle exploration in search of every freckle sparked the realization that love does not equal pain.
The difference between being bound and being connected is perception.