Is that love?

Love can’t be defined.
They say.

But if I can, is that love?

I never cried with you, but I laughed, until tears dwelled up in my eyes and the real world got hazy. Is that love?

I don’t know if I desired you, but I had the need to be irresistibly desired by you. Is that love?

I never touched you, but I always felt you. Is that love?

You said what you wanted to, not what I would have liked to hear. I love that. Is that love?

You found me a despiteful fiend, someone ugly, when I was. And it didn’t hurt. Is that love?

I know, you know the real me and I’m not scared of myself anymore.For me that is love.

Mute. Unspoken.

I still do.