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.

It was a soft and raspy voice. It almost deep but kept an innocence to it. I almost wanted to stay asleep just so hed keep talking. Yet again if i opened my eyes i could see his face. I heard him sigh and begin to stand up. I didnt want him to go. "Wait..." i muttered and he turned around as i sat up. "Where am i?". He looked at me with the most tender expression " I... I saw you jump...". I felt a pang of saddness. " But im alive-" " i saved you..." i saw a blush creep on his cheeks. "Why?" i asked trying to fight my own blush down and ran my hands through my black hair. No blood. There wasn't any blood on me at all. I began to wonder if he washed it out and blushed harder. "Why did you save me?". He ran his hand through his hair and looked up again. "I thought you should live..." he placed the journal on the nightstand next to the bed. " I remember coming out when i turned 16 about a year ago and i had the same issue but my aunt was more accepting so i moved out here..." my eyes widened and my heart jumped. He was gay. I couldnt help but smile "Whats your name?" he asked "Im nyle..." i told him. He smirked "Im bryant .". Bryant...Bryant Bryant Bryant... I repeated in my mind. I liked it. "Cool." he gave a soft chuckle " it's a good thing when you landed you hit you ass or else you couldve died." i blushed more. "Relax im just messing with you. You hit your head too but there isn't much serious injury except a broken rib." he leaned in

I remembered the ecstasy I felt when I was with him, the way he kissed my lips softly. I smiled at the thought of him pulling me into the ocean, caressing the sides of my body. I couldn 't write about the happiness I felt when I was with him. I had crushed papers endlessly because I couldn 't get the words to string along perfectly. It was then that I realized that I was in love with him, even though our hands didn 't fit together perfectly and silence constantly filled the air between us. It was the type of love people don 't write about, the kind that no movie has ever seen. It amazed me, discovering something that few people knew about. I looked at him and saw the passion in his eyes, there were no desires of hunger driven lust. We were different, he loved black and I loved white, but when we met in the middle, there was a balance that could be seen with the naked eye. It was a deep, tender, ineffable feeling that consumed my body in ways I didn 't know possible. I began to believe that he was the most important thing in my life remembering the ways we used to sit in the wet grass drinking till we reached a comatose state of mind. It was on these late nights that he got to see the weakest parts of me, as he read the stories I wrote in my darkest moments. He was the only person I trusted, the only person who had seen the real me. But I needed to let go.

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.

I have dated many people throughout middle school and a few during high school, but Alexander Valle was my first real love. Aside from being my first love he was also my first committed boyfriend in a way. We are not together anymore and I do not know how he feels about me anymore, but I still love him. Maybe not in a romantic way anymore but I know he still has a place in my heart. I watch over him from a distance, I make sure he is not getting into anything bad, and I still protect his name as if we were still dating. Something I learned from this relationship was to love and take care of what you love because they can leave at any given moment. I do not wish we were still together, but I do wish that he finds someone that treats him the way I never could.

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.

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.

The first thing I have ever felt was a gust of warm air hitting my fur and wet tongue tracing my face which knocked me over I couldn’t see who was there but there were other soft warm bodies around me I was curled up by the large warm body curled protectively around me and the others which I knew from the start she was my mother I didn’t know her by name but I knew her by scent. An unmistaken smell of forest flowers blended with earth “How are you doing Willow” a voice called out echoing around the space the voice itself was deep but it was gentle there was a proud aura about him “I'm doing fine Shadowfang just a bit worn out” my mother responded her voice matching her exhausted breathing

It was a dark and gloomy day with moisture in the air. The wind was hallowing through the afternoon, while the rain poured down and sounded like a storm in the ocean. This was the worst possible thing that I expected when I got married, what else would go wrong? Wait, I forgot I was marrying someone I didn’t love. This was however by choice though. I didn’t want to deal with her and her crazy plans so I gave up on my kingdom and composed a plan to make us both happy it would affect my life greatly though. This all started when I turned thirteen.

In life we often forget how to truly love ourselves. We fill our bodies with things we know are gonna slowly kill us, but we've been taught by those around us thats its a coping mechanism to be sane or to “fit in”. We learn lessons but take the knowledge the completely opposite way that deprives us of feeling happiness and love. We get hurt and build the barriers that stop us from giving our all to someone because past experiences make us think that'll it'll happen again; sometimes it does and sometimes it takes us by surprise and makes us wish we never suffocated ourselves by the thought of something bad happening.

I decided long ago that my parent’s love story is worth writing about. My mom grew up in the same red-bricked house most of her life in Richland, Washington. She grew up with eight siblings (she being number six)- three sisters and five brothers. Grandpa Nelson was an engineer, along with the rest of the people who lived on that street- most of them being members of the church. Grandma Nelson was a stay at home mom and raised my amazing aunts and uncles.

Axel, I’m aware you’re disappointed to the fact that I can’t seem to move on from you...

Love is an abundant emotion that has different degrees. There is familial love, friendly love, unconditional love, and of course romantic love. Romantic love will be the superstar of this article. Romantic love may be around every corner whether between an old couple or a young teenage romance. However, love is not the easiest thing to attain. It is such a simple concept, though a difficult thing to actually have a person’s hands on.

It’s a cold October evening, the sun low in the sky, the moon rising the east. I sit on the edge of some railroad tracks, dilapidated wood struts creaking under the weight of rusty metal beams and abandoned train cars. There’s the sound of a languid stream 20 or 30 feet below me, running perpendicular to the tracks. I look to my left, down the tracks and into the distance, remembering the many days and nights spent here with her. We’d look to the sky at night and talk about the stars, or sit in the shadow of the cars on hot summer days. All that remained of those golden memories was the eerie sound of emptiness, a brash juxtaposition against the happy days gone by. She and I were so close, a friendship forged in the fires of adolescence

The birds awoke me again this morning. Scraping and tapping at my window; almost begging me to get out there and play with them. They are the most beautiful creatures in the world, you know? The way they have the ability to soar anywhere they desire. To explore the far edges of the horizon, flying over trees and escaping from the world on the ground.