May’s Writing Challenge: Day 2

What does love taste like? What does it smell like? What does it look like?

Love is beautiful, as everyone says. Love is also terrible. It is the scariest thing a person can ever experience, far beyond death. That is because love is death. To love another, truly love them, it is to experience a small part of your soul dying. It gives itself completely to that other person so that no matter what may come, that tiny piece of you will always belong to the other person.

Far beyond this, though, she is amazing. She smells of lilacs and cherries, sometimes with a hint of spicy chai. Love smells like sunshine, and her smile is so contagious that it can infect even the most lowly of depressed demons and make them smile with her. She is perfection, but not in the way that most would conceive it. She is perfect to me, to others who are close to her, but only in her imperfections.

Love can look however you want her to look, even male, she is never picky about which form she takes. She does, however, have a way of making anyone and everyone fall for her, no matter which form she might be in. There is a strong draw to her that all feel, like she possesses her own gravity field that pulls people in. Once she pulls you in, there’s no escaping her. Once she pulls you in, you’re hers forever, and there’s nothing you’d like more than for her to call you hers.

It’s the feeling you get when you are lying next to someone you truly cherish, and when they smile at you like there is no other place in the world they’d rather be. It’s the sound of her purring into your chest when you hold her, content to stay there as long as you’ll allow. You can smell the sweet scent of her skin, the almost floral smell in her hair. She tastes sweet when you kiss her, with a faint hint of chocolate, but mostly just sugary goodness. And it doesn’t matter where you kiss her – her hand, her lips, her forehead, even her nose, it’s all sweet.

Her laugh is contagious, sometimes enough to make others laugh just because it’s so happy, but other times because it’s hard not to laugh at her. She is so happy it rubs off on people, but at the same time there is an overwhelming sadness about her that it impossible to shake. It’s haunting and beautiful, and yet full of pain and sorrow. Like she’s hiding something from you, no matter how o[en and honest she is being. As if there’s always something, some little detail that she’s leaving out.

She is breathtaking and gorgeous, and yet terrifying and intimidating all at once. She is pain and pleasure wrapped in one package. A goddess and a saint, and yet the devil herself at the same time. She is who rules life itself. The only true ruler of anything and everything. For what is life without love but a seemingly endless series of meaningless events from when you are born to the moment you die?

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