We all fall in love with hope.
It's what keeps us dreaming.
Fall for the idea that someone will notice the color of our eyes,
And remember the sound of your voice,
For someone to take a moment,
Just a breath of a moment and notice the brilliance of your existence.
To question the wonderous thoughts spinning in your head,
The hope that when your eyes water, a hand is also there to meet your own.
The critics of love are never the happy ones,
Or the heartbroken,
No. They are the content.
Content in their musings.
It is in th delicate seconds of hopelessness that we must be careful with love,
For the moments when you have nothing to give one another, you must find it within yourselves.