I say I love ,  and it's true. I give it.  
Loving you, choosing you , that’s my choice.  
If you have flaws, then so do we all.  
I only want one soul to live for,  
To live with , and to be worthy of.

It begins with sparks,  
A beautiful flame expected to follow.  
But who holds the power to keep it burning?

Is it me ,  the seeker, the admirer?  
Is it you ,  the adored, the receiver?  
Or is it us ,  two hands, both needed to tend the fire?

At times, the rhythm falters.  
It doesn’t flow as expected.  
A blink ,  and the warmth feels distant.  
In urgency, I rush to relight it  
To hold onto what flickers.

Maybe I am the love itself  
And when I leave, it leaves with me.  
Maybe you're afraid  
To seem desperate, too attached.  
Or maybe… there's no maybe at all.  

Then what do we call it?  
Is this truly love?