Love is morning hikes,
in Malibu,
above the cloud cover.

Love is late night walks,
through the hills,
when you’re feeling down.

Love is camping trips to Joshua Tree,
under the stars,
and s’mores around a fire.

Love is a NoMBe concert,
where you sing along to the lyrics,
and sway in the crowd.

Love brings home,
favorite foods,
like Silverlake Ramen.

Love is staying in,
watching Guava Island,
and being shocked by the ending.

Love is your greatest ally,
a symphony in the wind,
carrying you to higher heights.

Love meets the blunt,
and dysfunctional family,
and doesn’t judge where you come from.

Love is fights on the phone,
and hang ups,
and call backs.

Love explores,
new lands,
In foreign places.

Love is bathing,
in the hot spring river,
in Iceland.

Love is aching pain,
when he travels,
And you’re alone.

Love wipes the tears,
from your face,
when despair hits.

Love is there when you don’t deserve it,
have had too much tequila,
and are slurring your words.

Love goes to the neighborhood “good-luck” bar,
that’s about to close,
because they’re building a mall in its place.

Love listens to drunkards,
sing their last hoorah,
while the bartender pours large shots to drain the bottles.

Love isn’t lonely,
keeping thoughts to yourself,
or giving up.

Love is opening up,
like a broken egg,
and the yoke spilling out.

Love isn’t constant pain,
or one sided,
or eternally broken.

Love is Japanese pottery,
where cracks,
are filled with gold.

Love is someone to experience with,
to stumble with,
to find joy with.

Love is life together
even though it’s messy,
strange, disconcerting, and unpleasant.

Love is creating a home
in chaos,
where there wasn’t one before.