How love looks like?

Does it look like the threads
of my saffron dupatta that
often get stuck between the
button of his caramel shirt.
Or does it look like the happiness
everytime I try to overlook him
when accidentally we had an
eye contact.

I heard people saying it looks
like chrysanthemums waiting
for spring to nurture its beauty
even more. It looks like french
braid on a pink gown or evening
spent in boulevard while your
arms entwined with memories.

It looks like the blush on your
cheeks that somehow travel
with the breeze to kiss someone
and remind them how beautiful
their smile looks like.

It's the question mark when your
lips don't speak for too long and
love looks like imagination your
mind creates that pacifies you
more than a novel ever did.

It looks like the music which you
don't want to hear alone but with
your person and every note you
sing together cause enough warmth
in your room to not feel desolate ever.
It looks like the pain once stayed over
chest on pleasure but found it's way back.