An Endless List of Love Quotes

Like I've Mentioned before, I'm a total tumblr-aholic. I love to collect things that are beautiful (in my opinion) and share them with the world! If you do want to see my wedding based tumblr it is but my personal one is

Anyways - the purpose of this post was to collect all my favorite love quotes (to date) in one place. I love using them as captions on photos and videos or even as inspiration to write something. If you need something to get you in the romance mood - check out some of my favorites below :) 

I want you to dance with me under the stars. I want you to kiss me hard outside in the rain. When Halloween rolls around I want you to lay in bed watching scary movies with me all night. And during thanksgiving I want to hide from our families together. When we are stuck inside during a blizzard I want to drink hot chocolate by the Christmas tree. I want you for all the good days and all the bad days. I want you through thick and thin. Birthdays, holidays, death, and love. It’s you who I want by my side from now until forever. You are my wonder-wall.
she would have swallowed the sun to make you warm enough. she was nothing but love. she was nothing but love.
You ruin your life by desensitizing yourself. We are all afraid to say too much, to feel too deeply, to let people know what they mean to us. Caring is not synonymous with crazy. Expressing to someone how special they are to you will make you vulnerable. There is no denying that. However, that is nothing to be ashamed of. There is something breathtakingly beautiful in the moments of smaller magic that occur when you strip down and are honest with those who are important to you. Let that girl know that she inspires you. Tell your mother you love her in front of your friends. Express, express, express. Open yourself up, do not harden yourself to the world, and be bold in who, and how you love. There is courage in that.
All I want is your clothes on my floor, coffee made for two and to make you so happy it hurts.
Sharing a campfire with the one you love has to be one of the most lovely things we get to do. The deep conversations about life, roasting marshmallows, good beverages, to laughing about the day’s crazy events. Staring up at the stars during the brief pauses in conversation. Which quickly sparks conversation about how we fit into the universe. And as the conversation slows, you both sit quietly sharing a blanket, holding hands. Maybe a kiss or two. So go build and share a campfire this weekend with someone you love.
Whatever our souls are made of, her and mine are the same
Wait for someone who says, “Holy crap, how did I get so lucky?” when you walk in the door, absolutely exhausted from work at 6pm after being married for 30 years. Wait for that, it’s more than worth it.
If love is to bloom, I must go with you before the throne room, because only in the presence of Christ can we ever hope for a love that will last.
My marriage is full of these little affirmations: a comfortable drive to the grocery store with her hand on my knee, or the right to bury my face in her hair while she’s surfing the web, or the million funny little code words between us. Or the ironclad certainty that me hunching my back a certain way will summon her to scratch along my spine. So good. That quiet, unspoken binding is what keeps you warm and grounded in your love for this person.
Sometimes the most intimate experience is just looking at each other without saying a word and realizing, even if it shouldn’t be possible, that you’re so so in love.
To my sweet daughter,

If you ever begin to wonder if he is the one, ask yourself:

Does his laughter warm your body from the inside out? He knows that when you say two scoops you really mean three, right? Do you dance in his living room while drinking cheap wine? I hope so, and I hope you’re both drunk and terrible and laughing so hard you cry. Does he tell you how beautiful you are, and if yes, does he say it when the morning light falls upon your face? More importantly, when he tells you, do you believe him? Can you cry in front of him? I hope you can, that means you trust him. When it’s pouring rain does he know that if your hair is curled or your eyes are sad that means he should get the car and bring it to you? When he asks what you want for dinner and you say you aren’t hungry, does he ask if you’ve eaten today? And when you say you had breakfast, I hope he knows you don’t eat breakfast, and makes you a bowl of rice, because that’s your favorite comfort food. Does he kiss you good morning? Good night? Just because? Do you know he likes his coffee black? Unless he wants it cooled, then he will probably want some milk in it, but not too much. Do you know when he prefers tea to coffee? I never quite figured that out with your father, so if you have, you’re a better woman than I. Have you figured out where he’s ticklish? Don’t let him convince you he’s not, I promise you he is. Have you frustrated the hell out of him yet? You will, oh you will, but it’s how you two come out of it that matters. And when he said he loved you for the very first time, did you respond by asking if he’s afraid of heights? I hope with my entire soul that he said yes because that means, despite his fear, he fell for you. Now, darling, you tell me, is he the one?
I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… Not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you.
Love isn’t easy. We are conditioned to think being in love is going to be all butterflies and rom-com moments- and sometimes it is- but love isn’t easy.

When you’re really loving someone, you’re choosing to see the deepest parts that no one else was brave enough to see. You’re going to the places that aren’t beautiful or pleasant. You’re choosing to truly know someone beyond the surface and choosing to stay when the ugly parts are revealed. Love is having the conversations that feel like your heart is ripping open, but staying to put it back together again. Love is full of grace and forgiveness, even when you can’t find the strength to give it. Love is holding hands through tears because love grounds you; love shows you purpose. Love hurts because it is refining and changing you. Love is thinking about the future instead of just the day at hand because their future is important to you. Love is being selfless, even when it is excruciatingly difficult. Love is, “I am in your corner,” and “I will fight for us when you can’t.”

Love is so beautiful because the mirror that reflects who you truly are is changing you. It changes you in small ways like giving them the best piece of cake and big ways like I will not run out on you. You cannot truly love and remain the same- you will realize you are better, stronger, and full- because you are learning to love like Jesus does. True love will draw you closer to your Creator and into a deeper understanding of His enormous love for you. Love isn’t easy, but love is so worth it.
The first duty of love is to listen.
It’s all about the first person you wanna tell good news to.
A soulmate is not someone who shares your interests and is attractive to you. A soulmate is someone who is willing to grow with you, who chooses to be with you until the end, and will love you through good and bad. It’s not about sunshine and laughter, it’s about mundane moments filled with unknowns. Love is so much more than a spark you have, or passions shared, it’s working for something deeper and lasting. I think that at the end of all things, we’ll see what really matters, and I think the things we produced with love and grace will be what we have to show. So love with purpose, love beyond yourself, and love knowing that what you are growing is beautiful and good.
july gloom, walking on warm cement you are framed golden by the dying sunshine
i’m taking you home, sharing my cold bottle of lemon water
even though I’d rather be giving you playlists, linger 8 times in a row, in an envelope with pressed flowers
I watch the way you move ahead of me, your steps seem to flow
‘Cause you’ve walked this way a thousand times before, passing that tree
you love so much. telling me: the wind in the leaves sounds like night

I think i love the sound of night
Now there are fireworks overhead, showering yellow-red sparks like shimmering sunshine
The cement has carried us back to your house, up your driveway past an oak tree
We finished my lemon water
Next time i’ll make it with rosemary and lavender, like honey down my throat it will flow
Staining my mouth with the flavor of flowers

Maybe you’ll drink it too, turn into a Girl made of flowers
Or a girl made from all those shining, glittery broken glass stars we see at night
Either way you’ll be something wild, like a sea-flow
Or a spring mountain that only sees sunshine
Never those artificial city lights, reflecting on the water
Sometimes you feel so big, so bright i want to run away from you- climb a tree

Disappear in its branches and turn into it, a cherry or an oak tree
watch my fingers bloom into baby-pink, velvet soft flowers
I’ll only drink water
Stretch out my leaves at night
And wait for the morning sunshine
To flow

something has always been waiting in me, a night blooming flow-
er. it’s cowardice for me to run from you. to charm myself into a tree
i should just walk with you in the sunshine
and buy the damn flowers
ask you to stay with me, lying on the bedroom floor watching christmas lights twinkle like stars in the night
i’ll touch your fingertips like dragonflies touch water

which is to say gently- kissing salt water
out of my eyes. dew droplet tears flow
and maybe you wipe them away, finally stay the night
We lie down and have the same dream: a blue bird in a cherry tree
the breeze carrying the smell of something sweet - peaches, or july flowers
i wake up to your hair across my pillowcase, dappled sunlight

i think i may regret this some night or some day with sunlight and a tree full of flowers
while we drink more lemon water
only because i don’t know how to let these feelings flow
If you told me today our being together would result in heartbreak, I would still choose to be with you because I believe that truly living life is in the experiences, not the outcomes.
I imagine this future…this life..Where you are my good mornings and my goodnights. Where I open and close my eyes to yours each day. I imagine this life where our coffee cups are beside each other. Where your towel and your tooth brush is next to mine. Where your heart is never so far that I can not rest my hand upon your chest and feel your love speaking to me.
if they want you, they won’t lose you and that’s how it works. if someone loves you they’ll drink the ocean to make sure you don’t drown.
Her eyes make me believe Icarus knew the risks.
I’d miss a thousand sunsets just to look at your eyes.
Oh no. Don’t smile. You’ll kill me. I stop breathing when you smile.
I fell in love with your chaos because it matched with my own.
You’re my Art, I will adore you for a lifetime.
Do you remember when we first met? I thought I had wandered into a dream.
and I wait for you
in the shell of night by the shore
in the hum roaring from the depth of the sea
in the holes in the sky’s cape
in linden and acacia
among pines and cedars
in the underbelly of the waves, in salt
I wait for you.
There is something moon soaked and dawn flavoured about her. Something kissed by the wild and loved by lightning. She looks like Artemis after a night of storm hunting. She looks like the sun as it rises after kissing the dawn.
When we met again, there was this electrifying spark–
and it was dangerous,
because we both knew that the other felt it, too.
Her beauty drowned me. As I sat in front of her I felt that I would do anything mad for her, anything she asked of me. She was color, brilliance, strangeness.
“You seem so different with him than you were with your ex,” my friend told me.

“Isn’t that the point?” I replied. “It was a sloppy love full of mistakes because we were kids who didn’t know better. I was possessive of him because I didn’t feel secure, like the ground I was walking on would cave in at any moment. But he’s completely different. He makes me feel so safe, like we could survive any hurricane or tornado that comes our way. So yeah, I would hope that I’m different with him because if I wasn’t, it would mean that I didn’t learn from my mistakes and that would be a waste.
To me / You have meant everything, as you well know.
No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater…The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that’s the key. It’s like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.
I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.

you are not obligated to settle for love that doesn’t fill you in spaces that deserve honey and gold.
being in love is a very strange thing. Your thoughts constantly drift towards this other person, no matter what you’re doing. You could be reaching for a glass in the cupboard or brushing your teeth or listening to someone tell a story, and your mind will just start drifting towards their face, their hair, the way they smell, wondering what they’ll wear, and what they’ll say the next time they see you.
Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” he tells her,

“But I am terribly in love with the thought of you becoming mine.
I’m with you. No matter what else you have in your head I’m with you and I love you.
When they ask me about my future wife, I always tell them that her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I tell them that she has a walk that can make an atheist believe in God just long enough to say, ‘God damn’. I tell them that if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them that if she came in a bottle, I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. I tell them that if she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her, cover to cover, hoping to find typos, just so we could both have something to work on, because aren’t we all unfinished?
We agreed to love each other madly.
…Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they’re born.
her hands: blooming. sugar, hot
and humming. those wrists, sweet,
no longer sticky. yet stubborn,
reigning the laughter of two years ago.

her lips: fruit. ripe, or rotten, you
no longer remember. still, they remind you.
If you can’t picture yourself with them slow dancing in the kitchen at midnight eating ice cream or dancing in the kitchen with the windows open, big t-shirts on, and singing into a spatula while making pancakes on a Sunday morning then they’re not worth it. It’s all about who you see dancing in the kitchen.
There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you’re miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you.
You are sugar, ambition, and rain. You are a hot coffee on a cold day. You are a broadway musical. You are a crowded city street yet somehow a completely empty beach at sunset.
And my love, you are everything good in this world.
Then she kissed him until the sky seemed to fade out and all her smiles and tears to vanish in an ecstasy of eternal seconds.
I didn’t want to make the same mistake my parents made. I didn’t want my love to fade away one day like an old scar. I wanted it to burn forever.
You blossom under kindness, don’t you? Like a rose.
I think some people are just inexplicably bonded. Drawn by forces beyond their own comprehension, they have no choice but to gravitate toward one another. Destined by fate to keep crossing paths until they finally get it right.
I want to be the last person who ever kisses you… That sounds bad, like a death threat or something. What I’m trying to say is, you’re it. This is it for me.
It was the eyes. The secret of love was in the eyes. The way one person looked at another, the way eyes communicated and spoke when the lips never moved.
When they ask you what your favorite moment is, you will say her. You will always say her.
I once had a thousand desires, but in my one desire to know you, all else melted away.
I love the way her eyes spark when we’re talking or when she’s telling me something she wants me to know, the way she mouths the words to herself when she’s reading and concentrating, the way she looks at me as if there’s only me, as if she can see past the flesh and bone and bullsh*t right into me that’s there, the one I don’t even see myself.
Someone people think love should be mortally serious and full of drama. For me, love is light and laughter. When you can laugh together about things that no one notices; when you can do silly things together and be happy; when you are full of life.
Have you ever just looked at someone and thought, “I really love you”. They’re just talking or humming or watching a movie or reading a book or laughing or something, and there’s something about them in that moment that makes you think, “I just really love you.
You drive me insane…You’re the scariest, most clever, bravest person I know, and sometimes I can’t catch my breath because I’m trying so hard to keep up. There will never be another like you. You realize that, don’t you? Billions of people will come and go in this world, but there will never be another like you.
I barely knew I had skin before I met you.
Do you know how many ways love can hit you? So it makes you happy, or miserable? It makes you sick in the belly or hurt in the heart. It makes everything brighter and sharper, or it blurs all the edges. It makes you feel like a king or a fool. Every way love can hit you, it’s hit me when it comes to you.
I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence.
I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.
I knew the second I met you that there was something about you I needed. Turns out it wasn’t something about you at all. It was just you.
She scares the hell out of me and calms my soul at the same time. Maybe that’s what love is—a total contradiction that somehow balances out.
My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest

It wasn’t until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.

And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn’t mind burning my skin.

The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop.

And in public you’d hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn’t mind

When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go

Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered
Love makes you feel out of control. I think that’s how you know it’s right.
There are some people who come into your life that are so big, that words cannot describe the feeling you have for them.
Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
How about coffee, drinks, dinner, a movie; for as long as we both shall live?
We’re asleep until we love. We’re children of dust… But fall in love —and you’re god, you’re pure as on the first day of creation.
Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows.
Slow dance barefoot with me in the kitchen when my hair is undone from work, and my eyes are tired of the length of the day.
Sometimes, you just want to hand a bottle back and forth with someone, with the lights low, feet brushing against each other, as you sit on the floor. You want to read paragraphs aloud from philosophy books, and smile. You want to kiss their neck, just behind their ear. Their cheek just southwest of their eye. You want to whisper french terms of endearment. You want to tell them about the last time you cut yourself chopping too quickly, or on a jagged edge, or looked down to find blood from a scratch on your knuckle.

You want to play the music a little too loud. You want to whisper the lyrics. You want to lose sleep. You want to cry a bit, from laughing so hard. You want to not touch at all except for fingertips.

You want to lift the bottle up to your mouth and notice them watching your lips. You want them to want. You want to want. You want to mourn the 30 degree drop in temperature, and the week ahead. You want to tell them what you fear the most.

But most of all, you want to get drunk off the taste of them. Lips on lips. Drunk off the night, and the whiskey. The secrets, the laughter. Drunk off the idea that you didn’t have to be anything other than yourself.
you think you’re in love and this is the one and this is it. you may be right, but before you move heaven and earth and split the sea down the middle to make it work, take their hand in yours, turn the lights off, turn your computers and phones and the tv off. shut yourself off from the world. is this someone you can sit with in the darkness? is this someone you can sit with in silence? is this someone you can spend hours doing nothing else but counting the distance between lightning and thunder? because life is more than a forever of picture perfect moments - it’s darkness, and silence and interludes in which you hold your breath. forever should not feel like forever, it should feel like no time at all; it should feel like a blink of an eye; an interlude between the lightning strike and a thunder.
I’m picturing us on rooftops
in strange cities,
with strange people,
and us.
Always us.
“You’re my favorite,” he said offhand.
“Favorite what?” she wondered aloud.

“Oh, well,” he stammered. “Well, just that. My favorite pair of eyes to look into. My favorite name to see appear on my phone. My favorite way to spend an afternoon. Fill in the blank, Beautiful…I left it at favorite for a reason.”

“You’re my favorite too,” she whispered.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart.
I don’t want to be
the other half of your soul.
I want to be the one
who reminds you
that you’re already whole.
I pray that there is
more love in my heart
than water in the oceans.
It is so much easier to be attracted to someone than it is to be in love with someone.

Attraction comes and goes, it demands no obligation for you to stay loyal.

Love… Love requires two people to daily make the choice to be devoted to each other. To push one another to the cross because they know attraction will flee, they know that passion will be absent because that is what happens sometimes. Love, like joy, is not an emotion, it is endurance of future attraction, future passion. Love is the anchor that must keep us rooted in the storms, it is not the wind or the end goal, it is simply a tool that Christ gave to us the moment we were born.

Do not misuse love, do not mistake attraction for love. Because when it really matters and you are in desperate need of an anchor, using anything other than what is needed will end up with you sinking your ship.

Know love before you profess love.
My heart talks about nothing but you.
I asked an old man:

“Which is more important?
To love or to be loved?”

Old man replied:

“Which is more important to a bird?
The left wing or the right wing?”
You only need one man to love you. But him to love you free like a wildfire, crazy like the moon, always like tomorrow, sudden like an inhale and overcoming like the tides. Only one man and all of this.
Do it.
Get on the plane, get the train,
Walk 300 miles.
Get to her front door and tell her
“I know this is crazy
But I need you now.”
Our lives are too short to always be sensible,
Get the girl.
Distance makes no difference if your eyes light up when she laughs.
I will love you in the truest, most unexplainable sense. I will love you in the darkness, I will love you in the light, and I will love you in the chasm that lies in between. Every single part of me will love every single part of you.

So let me and love me, too. Because I do not want these to be just dreams of how I will love you.
He smiled at her. And it hit her like a mallet to the temple, the realization that she was in love with him. Stupidly, dreadfully in love with him. Overnight, she’d become a fool.
Kiss like you mean it.
Remember their birthday, every year.
Make them feel special, even on a monday night with a forecast of rain.
Befriend their Mom, she will tell you stories that no one else can.
Order each other food at restaurants, just to try something new.
Shower together, you may learn to love your body, by seeing the desire and passion in your partners eyes.
Leave notes when you go out for the day, it will make you feel safe.
Watch the Breakfast Club, and pump up your fist in the end, even if it only happens once.
Care for each other when sick, soup is the easiest thing to make.
Make chocolate covered strawberries in summer simply because you can.
Go fishing with their Dad, and listen to what he has to say, even if he may have trouble saying it.
Give each other little presents, even if its just a rose on friday the 13th.
Get angry, but forgive.
Love, love with all you’ve got.
It’s Monday,
and your hair is messy.
You haphazardly put on your jeans and shirt
as you moan about the day of the week -
and I love you.

It’s Tuesday,
and you’re stumbling your way around the room,
trying to sort out the things you have to do.
You stop to briefly kiss the freckles on my nose,
asking me about my day -
and I love you.

It’s Wednesday,
and you’re quietly sprawled on the couch.
You pat the spot next to you and pepper kisses on my hair
because it’s my least favorite day of the week (and you know it) -
and I love you.

It’s Thursday,
and you’re wondering what the weekend will bring,
but you’re still moaning about how
the week is going by too slow for your tastes -
and I love you.

It’s Friday,
and I’m surrounded by DVDs and snacks
you’ve prepared when I was gone.
You welcome me with blankets and warmth from your arms -
and I love you.

It’s Saturday,
and you’re feeling lazy.
You won’t let me leave your arms
(or is it the other way around?)
So you tuck me under your chin as we both wonder
how much time we have left
before sleep makes us miss each other’s faces -
and I love you.

It’s Sunday,
and there’s nothing much to say but
I love you.
I want every piece of me to crash into every piece of you,
I swear to god that’s how they make stars.
She puts her hands on either side of my face, and the room falls away. I have never gotten so lost in a kiss before.
And then, the space between us explodes. My heart keeps missing beats and my hands cannot bring her close enough to me. I taste her and realize I have been starving.
I have loved before, but it didn’t feel like this.
I have kissed before, but it didn’t burn me alive.
Maybe it lasts a minute, and maybe it’s an hour. All I know is that kiss, and how soft her skin is when it brushes against mine, and that even if I did not know it until now, I have been waiting for this person forever.
I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.
A true relationship is two unperfect people refusing to give up on each other.
The Italians have a beautiful expression for love: ti voglio bene. Though commonly translated as “I love you,” ti voglio bene more literally means “I wish you good” or “I want what is good for you.”

This phrase reminds us that love is not primarily about what good feelings may be stirring within. Even less is it about what I can get out of a relationship for myself. The fullness of love is looking outward toward my beloved and seeking what is best for that person, not just what is good for me.
When I turn around, he cups my face in his hands and he kisses me so deeply that I don’t know who is breathing for [whom], but his mouth and tongue taste like warm honey. I don’t know how long it lasts, but when I let go of him, I miss it already.
I promise to love you:

at 6 am when you’re waking
to go to work, to school, or whatever
road life takes you on;
and when you didn’t sleep well,
your hair is a mess
and your eyes are sleepy.

at 8 am when we say goodbye
for the day and you’re rushing
out the door with a cup
of black coffee, after finishing
a morning cigarette
when your lips taste like
caffeine and nicotine.

at 3 pm when you’re exhausted
from the day and people have
worn you out and you feel like
sighing, crying, and falling asleep
and escaping in afternoon dreams.
I will kiss your forehead,
and wrap myself in your arms.

at 10 pm when you’re heading to bed,
even though you won’t sleep for hours
and you’ll flip through all the channels
tired of dismal newscasts and re-runs.
Especially when we become a human knot
wrapped up in sheets and kisses

at 3 am when loneliness and sadness
do not destroy you, but consume you
and when you weep without an explanation
I’ll kiss your lips, softly and
tell you you’re the absolute best.
When we talk about life
and why winter kills the flowers.

I will love you when you grow old,
I will love you even after that
I will love you if I’m no longer here
I will love you
I will love you
and I will love you.

8 Ways To Say I Love You

1. Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.

2. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

3. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known.

4. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleep whispering.

5. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” Resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.

6. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it.

7. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realize you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking.

8. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”
He felt warm and familiar. He felt solid and safe. I wanted to cling to his shirt, bury my face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go.
Coming home to someone is many things. It is a literal action, an abstract idea, a physical feeling. It is more than the sound of the key turning in the door and the voice that calls from the porch. It is a choice, a promise, a declaration. It is a return, not as a person to a place, but as oneself to another. It is one individual saying to another: ‘You are the one I choose’.
I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees but to be quite upfront and completely truthful you make my body forget it has knees at all.
It’s quite an undertaking to start loving somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, blindness. There is even a moment right at the start where you have to jump across an abyss: if you think about it you don’t do it.
It’s a very powerful thing when someone sees you as the person you wish you were.
One way of knowing you truly love another person (or vice versa) is that you either want what’s best for them or what they want for themselves. Your needs or personal agenda do not factor in to the matter. If for example they want to move to another city, or you know that move would be the best thing for them, then the move is what you want for them too. The German phrase “fall back and I’ll catch you” is parallel to this. If you know for certain that person’s love and concern for you is genuine, then you can go to them any time and ask “What should I do?” And you can be certain their answer will honestly be what they think is in your best interest. Not *their* interest, or what they want from you, but what they think will make you happiest.
My mom taught me one thing: You don’t always have to tell people you love them. You just have to give them no reason to doubt it.
When he kisses her, storms rise beneath her skin. For she is the ocean, and he, her moon.
We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.
Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers.
I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.
I think once you’ve thought about how a person sleeps, how they’d feel pressed up against your back, or your head on their chest, how compatible your bodies would be in the same space of a bed — once you’ve thought about that, you’re fucked.
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.

This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.

And I will not be afraid
of your scars.

I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.
I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night. I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find. I want to talk about everything in the world newspapers. I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you. I want to have differences between us. I want your flaws. All of them. I want go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you. I want to be surprised by the new all the time. I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you.
She asked, ‘you are in love, what does love look like?’ To which I replied, ‘like everything I’ve ever lost came back to me.’
There was a time when mapmakers named the places they travelled through with the names of lovers rather than their own.
I believe that words uttered in passion contain a greater living truth than do those words which express thoughts rationally conceived. It is blood that moves the body. Words are not meant to stir the air only: they are capable of moving greater things.
Don’t kiss me during the fireworks. Kiss me after and give everyone else something to look at once chaos has passed. Don’t kiss me when you don’t know what else to say, kiss me when that’s all that needs to be said. Don’t kiss me at all the right times, kiss me mid sentence because my lips were moving, and you were jealous of the air because they weren’t moving on yours. Don’t read up on old fairy tales I don’t want a fairy tale. I want real and in the moment. So kiss me when you’re up in flames and about to burst. Kiss me when the tears are doing all the work. Kiss me hard and kiss me good.
It’s the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I woke up. It’s the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits about me that I normally try to hide from any man for as long as possible… and he loves me anyway.
I could start fires with what I feel for you.
When he told her that her voice sounded like earl grey tea, and her laugh like manic pencil scratches; that he always drew out the pattern of her freckles on restaurant napkins; that she was the princess he told his little sister bedtime stories about; that her eyelashes looked pretty when she cried; His voice trembled like a violin string and she cracked like the spine of a book.
To me you’re the sea
and I have fallen in love
with salt on my skin.
I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.
I’m in love with you because you make me feel safe. It sounds corny and vague. People always talk about feeling safe with someone and you wonder what it even means. I still don’t really know. All I know is that when I’m with you, I feel like I’m clutching a giant thing of pepper spray or reliving a moment of being carried to bed by my parents when I was five years old and fell asleep in front of the television. All day long, I can feel fragile, like a raw nerve, and when I come home to you, it’s like I just put on the thickest winter coat and installed bulletproof windows in my apartment. ‘Honey, I’m home…and no longer terrified.’
Love is a million things to different people. Love is what wakes up next to you in the morning every day, even though you have bad breath and look disgusting. Love is what drags you out of bed when you don’t want to get up. Love is what’s waiting up for you at night when you come home late, with a bowl of popcorn and a movie. But more than that, love is letting your hair down and hanging out in your sweatpants with the person who gets you most.
Your lips are like wine, and I want to get drunk.
To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.
Do you think I’m wonderful? she asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple. No, he said. Why? Because so many girls are wonderful. I imagine hundreds of men have called their loves wonderful today, and it’s only noon. You couldn’t be something that hundreds of others are.
A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
When I see you, the World stops. It stops and all that exists for me is you and my eyes staring at you. There’s nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The World just stops, and it is a beautiful place, and there is only you.
If my love were an ocean,
there would be no more land.
If my love were a desert,
you would see only sand.
If my love were a star-
late at night, only light.
And if my love could grow wings,
I’d be soaring in flight.
love you on Monday morning when you’re yelling from the shower, because I used all of your shaving cream when I ran out of mine. So I just laugh and jump in the shower with you.
I love you on Tuesday afternoon when you’re home sick and you call me up at work, in happy tears because you found my positive pregnancy test before I could tell you about it.
I love you on Wednesday night when we’re too tired to speak, so we crawl in bed without a word and fall asleep fast.
I love you on Thursday morning when you eat the rest of my favorite cereal and leave without saying goodbye.
I love you on Friday night when you get home and you’re so tired from the week that you feel numb so we sit in the bathtub drinking wine and reading our favorite books.
I love you on Saturday afternoon when we sleep in, when we’re tangled in sheets, my fingers are in your hair and your body is pressed close to mine.
I love you on Sunday morning when I tie your bow-tie and we head off to church hand in hand.
I love you when life gets hard, money is tight, and we’re suddenly going through the motions.
I love you when you find your first gray hair and the world starts to take its toll on your soul.
I love you when we’re on vacation and we get lost because we’re both horrible with directions in a place we’ve never been to before,
I love you when we’re both frustrated and screaming.
I love you when we argue over what our new baby’s middle name will be,
when he keeps us up all night and our eyelids become droopy,
when our passion fades,
when our favorite dog dies.
I love you in all seasons of our lives.
For better or for worse.
I am yours and you are mine.
i knew i was in love, because when i went shopping i wouldn’t just shop for myself, suddenly i found myself in stores i’ve never been to before, i found myself picking up things i wouldn’t buy for myself. When i finally got to the checkout i picked out two candies instead of one. I knew i was in love because i wanted to know everything about her down to what her favourite snack was when she was 3. Being around her was always enough, whether we were hanging out just talking or going out on dates. When we were out, i never cared who saw us together i wanted to show her off. When she told me about something she bought or about her accomplishments i was never envious, i was happy, because she was, i wanted her to succeed. I would do anything for her, no matter what she asked i would do everything in my power to do it. Her name popped into my head every second. I wanted to be with her 24/7. Being in love is literally like breathing underwater. You feel like if you lose them you can’t breathe. Its an awful but wonderful feeling
his pledge to her:

i will kill the spiders. i will share my fries with you when you’ve finished all yours and are still hungry. i won’t ever pop my collar. i will never be rude to your tummy- when i hear it growl and gurgle, i promise to bend down and reply respectfully. i will eat the mushrooms when we order the supreme pizza. i will kiss the papercuts. and the door-slammed finger. and the counter-bumped hip. i’ll try my hardest not to get annoyed when you whisper questions and comments during movies. i will be the big spoon. i will let you win at wrestling. sometimes. other times i will not. i will go faster. harder. i will pull when you want. and tease you when you don’t. i will send you random texts and leave you silly gifts. not always. not on schedule. just whenever i want to. whenever i think you need one. or seven. i will check your tire pressure. and remind you to take your car in. i will hold your hand. i will love you. i will love you. i will love you.
Kirsten SaharekComment