True love makes me cry. It makes me cry tears of joy. Watching it unfold brings fuzzy warmth inside me. It makes my heart grow light wings that fly. Warmth plus clouds equals soaring high.
True love is in the details like a colorful tapestry carefully woven together. It is in a gentle foot massage a husband gives his pregnant wife while he hums a smooth love ballad for her ears only.
Am I a creep for smiling widely, knowingly as I watch the purity of such love that swallows them into a bubble made just for two? True love makes me cry. It makes me cry without much say or control of my tear glands.
I find myself doing so effortlessly with a wide toothless grin stretching my two cheeks. It’s in the things it makes you do, true love. It makes you do things like call a grown person with a name, ‘baby’.
“I’ll call you baby. That’s your new name. I won’t have it any other way. You’re baby to me and that’s it.” See? Tell me how a hopeful romantic like myself wouldn’t cry at such cheesiness. How?
Is cheese like spice? Does cheese, like spice, make your eyes water a bit? I think it does. True love is cheesy. Cheese makes me cry. True love makes me cry tears of joy.
And That’s On Life, Periodt! 