I do not love you as if you were a rose made of salt or topaz
or an arrow of carnations spreading fire:
I love you the way certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you like the plant that never blooms,
but conceals within itself the light of those flowers;
and, thanks to your love, the darkness of my body
houses the suffocating aroma that arose from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, when, or where from;
I love you straightforwardly, with neither complexities nor pride:
I love you thus, not knowing how to love you otherwise

than this way whereby neither ‘you’ nor ‘I’ exist…
so close that your hand on my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes grow heavy when I tire.

Pablo Neruda, Soneto XVII

This is what love is. And the second half of this poem is simply purity...to love without complexities or pride and loving because you can't help it, there simply isn't another way to exist. Upon reading this I realized I need someone who is as much me as I am me. Someone who can be my up when I'm the down, someone to be my logic when I've lost all reason. When I am completely distant and aloof there he will be; evermore passionate. He will adore me, because that's the only way to live with me. He won't over look my flaws, he'll be consumed in them, ever intrigued by my complexities, knowing he may never fully understand me, but that it will be worth it. Words don't do love justice, my mind is bigger than a webpage.