"Love" vs Love

I’m tired of hearing about the love that only unfolds in romance novels. The rehearsed and painless love paved by wavering eye contact, long kisses and flowery imagery of praise and awe. The fantasy forged by imagination; charted with kisses in the rain and timeless strolls under strings of fading sunlight. The love that obeys the rules of attraction but defies logic. The senseless, frantic love that engulfs one in a heartbeat and sends a tidal wave of emotion flowing through our bodies in a coin toss. The love that’s been etched in our minds not to just believe but admire as well.

I want to hear not the erotic but the compassionate type of love. Handed out by those we take for granted or know all too well. The love that has withstood the fires that come with time and doesn’t speak with words but with actions. The love locked down in the deepest darkest parts in the bottom of our hearts that we locked up because we know that if we let it out we would never stop loving. I’d rather hear about the pain and sacrifice of a passionate mother for her son than about a youthful couple kissing on a rooftop silhouetted by the evening sky. I’d rather hear about that unbreakable bond between two lifelong brothers than small talk over a candle lit dinner. Because when the butterflies go away(and they will) and all the gifts and trinkets rot and all the steamy evenings or occasional meetings fade out of memory, That — that right there — what’s left. That is love.