He reads and listens to all the poetry and love she breaths and writes. His laugh is her oxygen, not her drug (because drugs are not sexy). His eyes burn with the fire of love and happiness. She loves him for his ability to wrap her carefully under layers and layers of love and acceptance. In a world where everybody tells her she isn’t enough, he makes her realize that she is not just enough but so much more. He makes her realize that she is unfathomably gorgeous and that every inch of her brings him to tears. He loves her because she strides through his mind with a million candles, lighting every inch of it with knowledge and passion. Her laugh makes him feel giddy and nothing short of infinite. They find a home in each other’s presence. Intertwining their conflicting philosophies to learn more. His eyes are always searching for hers in a crowded room. His heart jumps out of his ribcage and tries to wrestle with hers every time they have an argument which ends in ice cream and cuddles. They have the kind of love that is written about. They have the kind of love the blind can see. They have the kind of love you never saw coming because of how different they are. His spirit can crush mountains. Hers can shift entire oceans. Warmth radiates from their hearts, spreading it around in the form of good energy and drunk happiness. Something that just keeps them going.
Who knows what it is?
Maybe it was born with stardust, magic, and hope.
This is the stuff true love is made of.
Do not settle till you have had some of that magic.