Another one, and no I'm NOT love-struck!

I was randomly blog-hopping a day before my Econ paper, and I happened to notice this one post on what love means. So this guy put it across really well, left me more than impressed, if I may add.
Now, my fingers can't really resist the urge to leave a comment everytime I read something that's..erm..worth reading! So i put on my typing gear (in this case, an invisible cape and a thinking hat without batteries) and started to write my line-or-two on what I think love is.
But wait! Im in love too, atleast that's what my previous posts say, so a line-or-two won't suffice. I went on to write a decent essayish quantity and in the end thought to myself(without the aid of the hat, mind you) Why not put it up here !

So here, read on...

Love is what youe experience when you read all of this and more, and immediately close your eyes to think of the only person you wouldn't mind snoring in front of, the only person who's seen you through every small happening, the only person who's scent you can detect from a mile but never seem to find it anywhere else.

Love is this weird feeling in your toes,the tingling sensation and how everything in the world seems distant once they're in the bubblegummish mouth of your partner (if you curl them while you read this, you're in love mate)

Love is laughing at the same silly jokes, then looking at each other and saying I love You. Love is when you listen to songs on the radio and picture yourself in it, listen carefully and then conclude that it isn't your song, that your song would have sounds and instances exclusive to your relationship.

Love is what happens to you when you're having exams, and all you think about is passing them with a good GPA, and then waiting to tell your companion how well you did and how much you love him (contrary to the common misconception that people often confuse with love, when you can't study at all, and all that's on your mind is the man/woman you so totally are in "love" with, trust me, your companion in actuality would neevr let you do this to yourself!)

Ah well, love is not a disease, just in case you related it to a sickness of some sort. Love is ideally, a state of mind, a conscious effort to keep alive a feeling that in turn, keeps you alive :)

And now, for the original post that got me into this love-debate...(credits to Hari, http://whencupidstrikes.blogspot.com/ )
When do you know you are in love? It is not when you begin to lose sleep. It is when you begin to sleep with more peace. It is not when you begin to see her face in every other face you see, that would make her so un-special (wonder who ever thought of that weird expression, a friend thought of his muse in his professor’s face!) It is when her face is only a perfumed mist around you, keeping you in a trance for long, never-ending periods.

May be I contradict myself. It is not really when you are in a trance and feel lost, that you know you are in love. It is when you are the most clear-headed and focused that you know you are in love. It is when all her features become the centre of your attention.

The way her red lips part when she needs to smile, the way they pout when she is sorry, the way the blood drains out of it when her teeth bite gently into the suppleness.

The tiny cherry at the tip of her nose. The loving gaze, the swiftness of her eyes to catch every minute detail. The rise of her cheeks at every smile, the bed of skin at her chin. The delicate turn of her ear, the wisps of hair making the sideburns. The small of her neck that shakes as she talks, the bones by them that rise as she breathes. Her neck that loves being pampered by a tongue. The shiny hair that fall on her nape, tickling her back. The gentle rise and fall of her soft but firm breasts, the peace inside the cleavage and the confidence of her perky nipples.

The tremors of the stomach, the tremble by the sides, the naughtiness of her belly-button and the trail of soft fur. The goosebumps that announce arousal.

The divine aroma, wrapped in soft spools. The tough door and the smooth walls. The warmth inside. The delicious wetness. The heavenly taste.

The kissable thighs. The strong knees, intricate toes and baby toe-nails. The adorable calves, the tender pit of the knees, the rise of her cheeks, the rosebud between them. The small of her back. The curling vertebrae. The arch of her shoulders, the tone of her biceps, the affectionate curl at the elbow, the grace of the forearm and the immaculate fingers, the moon-less nails.

The buoyancy of her gait. Her mild chiding. Her gentle breath. Her thoughtfulness. Her honest emotions. The sheer smartness. Her kind words, her true concern. All of her.

It is when you understand that every feature of her is a work of art, an intricate design in itself; that you know that you are not only in awe of her physical beauty, but are also in love with her individual existence.