Descriptive Essay About Love

Much has been said about love, but if you search the horizon, you will discover that most of the things written about love are either pithy or cynical.

Love is difficult to define, difficult to measure, and difficult to understand. Love is what great writers write about, great singers sing about, and great philosophers ponder. Love is a powerful emotion, for which there is no wrong definition, for it suits each and every person differently. Whether love is between family, friends, or lovers, it is an overwhelming emotion that can be experienced in many different ways.

The hypnotic glare of thousands of pixels illuminates the contours of my body, projecting a shadow of desolation onto the bedrooms walls which seem to stand over me. My shame blindfolds me. The voices inside my head reverberates,

Looking down at me you say, "Your pussy so tight" thrusting forward my titties bounce it feels so good. We hold each other and kiss and you slowly fuck me into bliss...

ontrollably and bury my face into her shoulder and just continue to sob until my eyes have dried up and just sit there for a couple of minutes. When I finally lift my head up and look up into her eyes. She smiles gently, looking at my face, I close my eyes already know that my eyes are red and puffy and my makeup has to be coming down my face as I just cried my eyes out like Niagra Falls in the taxi.

As I walk into the Homeward Animal Shelter for my dog walking shift, I think of the reason I began my weekly volunteering. I want to give love, in any way I can, to the animals who have been left by the ones they love. These animals that I spend an hour and a half with every Sunday need to know that someone loves them. That they have not been forgotten about and it gets better. After spending the summer with my aunt and uncle, I learned that. As I watched their newest rescue dog Snoop open up to me after 3 years and watching his mile stones. For a dog that was abandoned by his family and left on the street, bounced between the shelter and temporary homes, he has finally found permanent love in our family.

I’m Angelique, 15 years old, filipina. Everyone knows that about me and then they make their single story about me. I’m a shy girl to some and really weird and outgoing to others. No one really knows what I’m like or who I truly am. In this essay I will be revealing myself to all of you, whoever you are.

The sun’s light rays shined down on the earth outside, growing warmer as it rose above in the sky. Inside Layton’s chambers, where it was dark and cool, he lay working himself to sleep, gorging on the now free pouring life from the girl frail between his arms. He was starving by the time he left Ava, but he didn’t realize until now it wasn’t for blood. He didn’t understand what exactly as he tightened his grip around the flesh, the need constricting his breathing and scorching through his veins through to his heart, his eyes, where it all burned.

The first time Daisy saw James Gatz she knew she loved him. I remember her coming over to my house and telling me all about him. They met at a diner where he was a dishwasher. He saw her come into the diner multiple times but she was always with other people. One day she came in by herself and he got enough courage to go talk with her. Gatz’s shift had just ended so he sat and talked with her. They immediately clicked. He walked her home and James officially asked her on an official first date. Daisy called me and told me about him that night. She told me how good looking he was. She thought James Gatz was the one she had dreamed of marrying since she was a little girl.

A soft, hissing and crackling emerges from the flame. The flavor of the smoke calming me as I stare out on to the cold deserted street below. My neighborhood still as the dead after a day of activity. Now only I and a few passing cars enjoyed the peace and tranquility. The cold quiet night, like many I have spent smoking at my window, reached my skin and over time caused my extremities to numb. As if to mute the pain. Mind and body alike at last. The tree moved slowly in the wind had seemed to dance to an old and forgotten waltz in companionship with the smoke from my cigar. Memory is a dark entity, one which has cursed me with recollections of my vengeful past. Memories of her. Her to which I pledged heart and soul, body and mind too some many a night ago. Her beauty without measure and her smile without fault haunt me. Her words carved into my being like words etched into the cold stone. Leaving me scarred. I inhaled more, as if to smoke the mere thought of her out of my head like a hunter would an animal he hunted. Love is something abstract, a concept of which I am of the misfortune to not be able to comprehend. Pity those that long for companionship and find themselves enslaved by it while retaining a belief in love's purity and never polluting form. However, those should be pitied more if they can't see the beauty in imperfection and that which is misunderstood. My last inhale left s my lungs, filling my view with only a slight orange glow cast by the lit cigar end

I always dated guys that were bad news. I only started dating at eighteen and I'm twenty one now. The guys I dated were either into drugs, cheating, alcohol, or just not good for me. They got me in to some bad things.

Love. Love is shown in so many ways. Whether it be a loving husband buying a beautiful, diamond ring or a child’s crush bringing the other a tootsie roll, love is always being expressed. What is one way that no matter what your age, or what the mood of your significant other is in, you can look like the most caring person in the world? A magnificent glass vase filled with freshly plucked, blooming flowers. A vase full of fresh flowers can really mean a lot to someone who is sick, is having a hard time, or just needs an exaggerated reminder that they mean the world to you. There is such a deeper meaning to the vase then you could imagine at first glance.

Ranging between soothing lullabies and loud, rhapsodic thrillers, music is diverse. The ends of the spectrum typically never meet because they don’t mix well. Love, however, is like a symphony: constantly rising and falling, exquisitely unpredictable, but beautiful and unique, nonetheless. It's dissonant, yet still comes together to create something otherworldly. It’s rare to witness a love that makes one feel infinite. It’s even rarer to have this love last. When people are young, they are more likely to have small tastes of this love and are eager to pursue it in the future. I have been lucky enough to experience this symphony, and it really has changed my life.

I sat on the stone cold bench near the fountain with my eyes fixated on the water that gushed forth from its four spouts, though I was not focused on it. I was there for what felt like hours, though the watch wrapped around my wrist said otherwise. My stomach was in knots and my depths of my chest were churning. It had been two days since this turmoil had begun, yet my heart said it began decades ago.

A smile made its way to my lips as we finally reached the countryside, it stretched before us like a great quilt of golden, brown and green squares. It always had a unique way of making me feel at peace, the blustering wind, the fresh air, the clear sky, the radiant sun, and the chanting of birds, it all seemed like a hymn sung straight to my soul. Plus, the people there were really simple and honest, never been interested in judging one another, didn’t even give a damn about politics, or had any diplomatic views, they didn’t care about anything that was outside of their little bubble, they dealt with life day by day, and their biggest concern was always getting bread to feed themselves and raising their children peacefully.