love /Iv/ n. (unfinished) 1 Words feel deficient in the ability to convey my love to you. It would take a lexicographer years to define this love in its entirety. You are my vocation and every day I sit at my desk and work. My tasks consist of introspection, recreating your image from memory, and archiving your existence because it is historically significant. 2 Your beauty is like a miracle, as if by god so I may believe. To make you frown is to deface Rothko’s ‘Black on Maroon’. Your oil, sweat coated skin enrich the flavour and texture upon my lips; you taste like a Michelin Star. Your facial expressions compose graphemes, there is meaning in every contour and line. 3 Your laughter and voice are a reference to makers of musical instruments. The reception of your embrace made warmth feel like a first encounter. O’ to breathe is to carry your scent to my heart. I could collect everything you touch as though they’re the finest of treasures. 4 Your proximity alters my perception of time. I am in a state of mental disorder as normal functions are impaired by uncontrollable and reoccurring thoughts of you. Everything seems an interruption because my attention is for you. 5 You are so good that I have become unimpressed by kindness. You are the active ingredient to my relief. If salvation is possible, it is because you are edifying. To stray from you would mean condemning myself to the illusory love of the morally corrupt. You make my fears impotent. I would take the ‘Oath of Allegiance’, but name you as my Majesty instead of Charles the Third. To associate yourself with me is a demonstration of Christ’s humility. 6 We have shared the same fates like two particles quantumly entangled. Our union is a phenomenon, like the inosculation of two trees. 7 If my words are considered poetry, then I credit you as the author, because it is you who guides me to them. I apologize if I insult You with any praise that lacks the excellence in which You merit. I would revoke all my compliments of others so I may instead give them to you. I would plagiarize the greatest verses in history, if it weren’t offensively lazy, because you deserve the likes of ‘A Red, Red Rose’. You are true art and my work is just a cheap imitation. 8 My ambition is to publish this text, to increase my love’s amount for you with each copy. 9 You are so inspiring, I believe you could make the most unskillful artists rival the old masters. I will continue to practice because if you were captured in the hands of a talented artist, you would live forever. I love you. And if a moment comes that I no longer love you, it will be because I’ve died and my legacy is that I loved.