Descriptive Essay About Love

Love is an interesting concept. Wikipedia describes love as “a variety of different emotional and mental states, typically strongly experienced” (Dictionary.com). Romeo and Juliet, written by Shakespeare, portrays the illogical choices that may be made when in love. Another source explains how love is addicting in the poem “The Raven” written by Edgar Allen Poe. “The Gift of the Magi” depicts people who mistake love for lust. The force of romantic love inflicts harm on many because it persuades lovers to make irrational decisions, it is negatively addictive, and many cannot differentiate love versus lust.

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.

I looked at you in the eye, at my sisters sixth birthday, you looked at me back with a confused face, your eyes grew old, sad and frustrated. You wanted to remember but your brain wouldn’t let you. I wish I could've gotten to know you, hug you, and tell you I loved you before you forgot.

People tend to hold onto objects because it reminds them of an important past or significant people whom they received it from. There are countless items people hold onto, one of mine is a picture of me and my siblings. Although the photo is flat and meaningless to some people, in my perspective, there is an immense depth and value to to the actual object. This picture, which illustrates what appears to be me and my siblings having a good time, demonstrates the love I have for them.

The helplessness I felt as I sat clenching my head in the murky, brisk night. The words “ I will always love you no matter what”, repeatedly played in my head like my favorite melody. The feeling of your hands riveting my face as you gave me one last kiss overwhelmed me with heartache. The pessimistic stare you gave me as you proceeded to say, in a sorrow manner, “Goodbye Jo”, haunted me forever. The moment I never thought would come about came into prospective right then, you were no longer mine.

A couple days after that, on April 1st, we facetimed for the first time. You looked really hot in that as I call “the dog shirt”. Your hair was fluffy. It looked soft. You needed a haircut. You had one little piece of hair sticking out the whole time. I never told you. You had the biggest smile on your face. It was the most handsome smile I had ever seen. You were handsome. You had a sense of humor and a voice I couldn’t get enough of. I really didn’t want to end it, so you did. That night I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get out off my

I revelled in the fact I could see the change in your face, as it morphs from seething anger into horrendous pain. I knew soon I would be released from your grip and sent to bed, to dream in my fantasy place.

“I’m sorry, Evelyn,” I sobbed, burying my face in my hands. Why? Why did I have to ruin this night? It was supposed to be a fun time, not filled with the stupid drama in my head. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about myself,” I began. Evelyn furrowed her brow in confusion. I hadn’t been very open to begin with, but over time, I had started to share more of my visions with her. “The thing is, even though it hasn’t been a long time – only two months, about – I have fallen in love with you.” The silence was an anvil on my chest, an iron grip on my throat, a rush of butterflies in my stomach.

Your quiet breathing tickles my nose and I realise how close we are right now. I devour every detail; every freckle and mole, the gentle creases by your eyes, the stubble just beginning to pierce through the skin along your jaw. I watch as your eyelids gently flutter open, hazy with dreams, and in that moment my favourite colour changes from lilac to the murky green that is you. We lay there staring at each other, raw and open, vulnerable.

The night, when it happened, felt like so many others. You were with her, alone in this atrocious woods, under this oak tree. She reached out her hand and held yours, reminding you you’d never be alone. You and her sat there, backs against the moss, exchanging blissful nothings for centuries compacted in

You don't even look back to the place you once cuddled this calloused heart begging for alms of love. You probably don't know me either, you choose to push yourself far beyond the sweet sounding memories to resurface like a long-forgotten melody, in the back of your mind. But still, I know that you love me; or perhaps, you don't. It hurts when I remember.

When i first met you you screamed and looked at me and you stopped you knew my voice and smiled at me...as you got older i knew you were different you were always so serious for someone so young you wanted me around asking for no one but me as you got older you started to grow to hate me trying to run me over with various different wheeled objects screaming away why you wanted to run me over i screamed back but i knew i didn’t mean anything by it but you didn’t you’d stop and look hurt and i'd go back to my room and lock the door so i could be left in peace and to let you play alone away from the one you hate at night when you would sleep you would kick your little blankets of in your sleep and whimper in your sleep from the cool night air

One late morning in 1914, I leaned against the newly painted silver railings of the large Majestic, a beautiful ship with a black bottom and a bright white top. Murky, charcoal-black smoke came out of the three enormous, grey, cylinder-shaped chimneys, which began combining with the fresh sea air. The thunderous boat horn was then suddenly blasted, interrupting the beautiful, calming noises of the sea. I heard the screeches of the white seagulls choke as they flied through the tenebrous smoke. I took a deep breath of the crisp air, and held onto the cool railings. With my eyes focusing on the horizon where the sky meets the sea, I noticed how the soft, shimmering sun bleed through the dark white clouds, pouring

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 went to Cape Cod, and you went to CTY. Three days in, you told me that things weren’t working, that you needed a break. Do you understand how much that hurt? That out of the blue, we were saying that we loved each other and hours later, it wasn’t the same. The break was good, I think we both needed it, but when we came back and met each other things were different. The girl that I had loved wasn’t there any more. I didn’t recognize who you were. I was devastated, because all this time I had been waiting, hoping, to pick up where we had left off, and suddenly there was nothing. That is why I cried. Because I had never said good bye to the girl I loved. To me, it felt like you didn’t care, that all those emotions, all the I love Yous, were empty words. Because you didn’t show me that it was hard for you, too.