Do you know, who you are to me?

“You are the peanut to my butter,

A twinkle in my eye,

Water to my ocean,

The glaze on my doughnut,

Spring in my step,

Blue in my sky,

Cherry to my sundae,

Flip to my flop,

Milk to my cookie,

Sweet in my dreams,

Cheese to my macaroni,

Best to my friend,

The beat of my heart,

Bumble to my bee,

Jewel on my crown,

You are the ketchup on my French fries,

You are a smile to my face,

You are the ink to my pen,

You are the icing on my cupcake,

Love of my life” Unknown Poet

Did you smile after reading this?

I smiled and smiled.

I smiled a lot.

I started wondering about these romanticized statements of deceit.

Who is tricking whom?

Who is the aggressor or who is the victim?

Who is responsible?

Do poets think too much of themselves?

It looks like poets, writers, and musicians have the final say on the subject of love.

Do you feel it’s nothing but absurdity?

Or it’s OK with you.

What exactly is true love? 

“We’re all a little weird.

And life is a little weird.

And when we find someone, whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness — and call it love — true love”

Robert Fulghum

What is happening in the present-day love story?

“Girls cry their eyes out until they are dry, while boys drink their beers until their mugs are all dried up”

Unknown

PS-This post is written on a lighter note.😀😀

Thank you for your visit.

Take care, my friend.

Namaste 🙏🙏🙏

Philo

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