My Modest Attempt to Define what I Mean by More than Love

IF you don’t like pretentious, over-the-top love letters, then stop reading.   It is only written for one person to read anyway.

I love you with an absence of understanding.  I am quite cognitively aware of all your superior traits-admirable and incomparable.  You are intelligent, beautiful, caring, artistic, understanding, creative, full of life and joy, extroverted socially yet introspective in thought.  Your round face and almond, dark eyes invite the trust and ease of strangers into polite conversation transforming into instant friendship.  Guys say you are approachably sexy and woman love your cuteness and all eagerly converse with you, creating conversations just to talk to you.  This ease of speech is exacerbated by a quick, full smile (even if it is a well-crafted forgery).  You are thoughtful, your words crafted in class and brilliance, decisions decided in slow analytics and decisive in appearance; your very nature is provocative.

I comprehend how you view some of these things as faults.  You worry constantly about hurting loved ones.  You hate lying or pretense.  You see beauty in everyone regardless of their intentions and return perceived beauty with affection, making bad to good like rotten bananas into banana pudding-upsetting yourself when the reality is not what you thought you made for dessert.

But for all of the intellectual reasons it is easy to love you, none of the aforementioned character traits, envied among all, provide the rationale, an accurate description, or the substantive inspiration of my love.

It is quite possibly inexplicable (maybe all love is).  It is deep within me.  Deeper than the physical mind can comprehend or quantify in abstract constructs, symbols, or language.

I look into your eyes and my soul has an intimation of this understanding.  A touch hints at this shadow.  I hold you in my arms and want all of your beautiful dreams manifested real and bad dreams to become the shadow of fog, vanished and gone in the morning light.  There is something in your voice, laugh, a small touch, but particularly your eyes.  I can’t explain it and it is the first time in my life I’ve failed to even formulate an hypothesis.  All I know is that I love you deeper than I thought love meant.