Love is...

Not for the faint of heart. Its the kind of thing that is beyond your ability to control and understand, it simply is. It is the kind of thing which haunts you at 1:18 in the morning, pulling you ever closer to some pointless speech concerning what it is when all that you say it is is really what it isn't. Its entirely a part of the peices of you which are not a part of you at all but a part of someone else in such a way that it is no longer a part of them but a part of you.
Love is...
Something shared outside of the inside of your being while being in another. A driving force to make yourself a better you in the hopes that a better you will be better liked by the one who liked the old you and wishes you to stay the same when you change for them by not changing at all. A thousand questions without an answer with which you are content with only posing them and never knowing the truth because that's all you need in order to comprehend the answer you aren't given.
Love is...
A state of heart in which the mind takes over and guides you with blind reason towards the inevitable meeting of thoughts and passions with another who can see no further than there own hands reach until they meet you. That feeling you get when you pull someone close, wrap them in your arms, so that you can pull them into a place that you can see them for what they really are beneath all the skin that is who they are. Why I stay up at night forever hoping I may write something on a whim which can express to me and to her exactly what love might possibly be between us and why we've fallen for each other and not another.
Love is...
Beyond the physical, metaphysical, to take the words of one I say I love. All to physical in the world around us as we hold close those we call dear and kiss softly those we love most. A thousand words you wish you could say with your lips but lack the ability to do more than express it with a hug and a grin as you are at a loss for words at the sheer limitless meanings of such a simple emotion.
Love is...
What keeps me coming back to you long before we admitted that's what it was. Exactly why I stay up late writing stupid free verses like this which feign depth but all too often simply trying to confuse and mislead the reader as love often does me. What I think of when I think of you and is the first thing that comes to mind when I'm out of things to say to you.
Love is amazingly complex and simply mundane within itself as it extends beyond the reach of my fingers as it tickles the tip of my nose and appears invisible to me in all its brilliant colors.
Love is you to me whenever I stop to breath.
But what is love to you?