Love

Do I describe it with a sonnet, or a soliloquy? A poem, or simple prose? The ‘L’ word is the single most powerful word in the English language, yet, it is also one of the most difficult words to define. If you ask the Merriam-Webster dictionary, there is a 14-item list of definitions for love. Now, this list does not really define love, not for me anyway. Love is something much stronger than meager words on a page, grasping at straws with hopes for some semblance of a concrete thought about an enigma. Love overwhelms the senses; it creates its own sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste; it engulfs your entire body in its soft, comfortable warmth and twists reality to the will of the heart rather than the mind. Perhaps love is so powerful because it grounds us, sure, the mind wanders at its thought but at the same time, it helps us find ourselves. Among the chaos and tumult of our daily lives, sometimes the only escape is love, the love for a person, place, or thing. The easiest and most logical way to describe this nebulous concept is by analyzing its effect on our senses. So that’s what I’ll do.

A look, the simplest way to show and receive love, is often unhindered by the other senses. Love is hidden in that extra second that you spend looking into their eyes, a lingering glance that paralyzes you, not with fear, but with serenity. Almost as if you were floating effortlessly in a cool, crystal clear ocean, not a care in the world. This was the kind of eye contact that lasted seconds but felt like an eternity, because right now, for once in your life, you feel like everything will be okay. You could feel her eyes digging deep into your pupils, searching for the secrets of your tattered soul, but relinquishing nothing. Her emerald green iris held a vibrant ring of fire whenever sunlight filtered in, but after a while you look past the eyes, into something deeper and inexplicable. Just one look was enough to entice me, just one.

A sound, the music of love bounces around the eardrum like a cymbal, crashing when it hits the wall, but reverberating with a pleasant frequency. Her laugh, a series of perfectly ordered giggles. Of course, her giggle was enough to soothe my soul, but what really roped me in was the innocence I could hear when she laughed, sweet as honey. Sounds she would make only drew me closer, some a result of being close; like the little sharp breath she would take whenever my hand had reached the small of her back as we embraced. The subtleties of a gasp of air or gentle moan would fill me with desire. However, the sound that truly filled me with love was the way that she said my name. Simple, but powerful.

A smell, the floral perfume that surrounds her and intoxicates me on a daily basis. The scent of fresh spring flowers mixed with delightful citrus is alluring enough to draw me to her lips, but I pause. Another scent pulls me in closer, the captivating smell of her strawberry shampoo clung to her smooth golden-brown hair. I’m caught in the snare of her sweet aroma, something more enthralling than the appetizing fragrance of fresh-baked cookies. This was a smell that made me feel like I was finally home, like innocence incarnate. The promise of comfort and opulence with such a simple aroma.

A touch, the first is typically the most powerful. For most, the hands are the first to touch. Exploring uncharted territory. The first time it happened we were sitting on the couch watching a movie. I sat wondering how to approach the situation without making things awkward. Do I throw my arm around her? Do I try and hold her hand? Up until that point, the most physical contact we’d had was a hug. Although, the hug did linger to a point where I knew that she too enjoyed having our bodies pressed together. I was into her and she was into me, so I finally convinced myself to slide my hand on top of hers, fingers interlocking, she accepted my advance with a light squeeze. Fingertips intermingled and our hands fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, this feeling was exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. My heart began to beat like a drum against my rib cage. I knew from this single touch, that it was love.

A taste, the most intimate of all the senses. Naturally, the first taste is the first kiss. Love makes the first kiss feel like the physical sensation of fireworks bursting with light and color throughout the body. It starts with a look, a look of longing and perplexing temptation, followed by the sound of deafening silence, our bodies doing the talking. A pleasant fragrance pulls me in closer, then, gently, the touch of my arms wrapping around her body with restrained intensity. One more look for assurance, then our faces become so close that we surrender to our desires. A deep, passionate kiss turns into many and her strawberry-flavored lips slide across mine. That is the taste of love.