Your Smile Was My Favorite Poem

Love does something no science can explain, no textbook can fully grasp. It rewires the mind, softens the heart, and alters the way we perceive the world—especially the person we fall for. Suddenly, their ordinary laugh becomes music. Their tired eyes become galaxies. And their smile—oh, their smile—becomes your favorite poem, the one you keep rereading, even when no one else understands why.

When we love, we stop seeing with our eyes and start seeing with our soul. What others might find simple or unremarkable becomes sacred to us. Their smile may not be symmetrical. Their voice might crack when they laugh. But to you, it’s perfect—not in spite of the flaws, but because of them.

"It wasn’t golden, wasn’t staged,

Just a crooked curve that softly stayed.

But I swear the stars blinked when you grinned,

And in that moment, the world thinned."

The Alchemy of Affection

There’s a kind of emotional alchemy that happens when you love someone deeply. It's not that the person physically changes—but your interpretation of them shifts entirely. Their presence becomes a comfort. Their quirks, once unnoticed or even annoying, become endearing. You start seeing them not as a face in the crowd, but as your safe place in a chaotic world.

You begin to remember little things—how they raise one eyebrow when skeptical, how their fingers twitch when they're excited. You begin to feel the room differently when they walk in. Light follows them. Time bends slightly.

"You walked in, and silence knew its place,

My heartbeat adjusted to your pace.

No grand entrance, no glowing light,

Just your smile—gentle, bright."

When Love Writes Its Own Language

When you truly love someone, you start reading them like literature. Their expressions are metaphors. Their silences are punctuation. Their gaze becomes a poem that only you understand.

And in that private language, their smile becomes the verse you never want to end. It’s the stanza that repeats in your dreams, the refrain that hums in your chest when you're alone.

This is why lovers stare. Not just to admire—but to read one another. To catch the subtle changes in expression that speak volumes. To memorize every nuance like it's sacred scripture.

"Your lips curved, and my breath forgot its name,

Not because you smiled, but because I mattered.

Because in that split-second grace,

I saw a home behind your face."

Love Alters Perception

Science says love activates the brain’s reward system—the same regions that light up with chocolate or music. But beyond biology, love creates a powerful illusion: the beloved becomes a masterpiece, even if no one else sees it.

It’s not delusion—it’s devotion.

You don’t see a perfect person.

You see a person perfectly.

And maybe that’s the most poetic thing of all. Love doesn’t just decorate reality—it transforms it. It adds color to grayscale. Meaning to silence. And softness to a world that’s often too sharp.

"Your smile didn’t change the sky,

But it changed the way I saw the clouds.

And in your eyes, I found the kind of peace

That made the storms seem proud."

After the Smile

And what happens when they leave? Or when love changes shape?

The poem remains.

Even if the person fades from your life, the version of them you saw in love—the beautiful version, the soulful version—lives on in your memory. Not as an obsession, but as a soft reminder that love once colored your vision.

That you once looked at someone and saw something worth writing about.

"I don’t reread you to remember pain,

But to remember that I once felt rain

Turn to petals in your smile’s heat,

And how the broken felt complete."

Final Thought

Love does not need to be loud. Sometimes, it exists in a single moment—a glance, a laugh, a curve of the mouth. And in that moment, you realize: your favorite poem was never on paper. It was living. Breathing. Smiling.

So the next time someone asks you what your favorite poem is,

don’t name a writer.

Name a feeling.

Name a person.

Name that smile.

Because sometimes, love doesn’t write poetry.

It is the poetry.