There are two types of love. The quiet kind and the loud, blaring kind. The quiet kind sneaks up on you. It’s soft kisses on the hand, small nervous smiles, and the rosy tint of cheeks. It’s the shy patter of one's heart, creating a slow, soothing rhythm in thou’s body. It’s the love of butterflies wings. Small flappings unheard of by anyone, but the butterfly and those who listen close enough. It brings a small ember in the stomach that shakes the bones and tickles the skin. The lovers may deny this silent affection, yet it paradoxically rages in their hearts. And then, there is the loud, blaring kind. It pounces on one; a tiger to its prey, yet the tiger lands softly, and by no means wants harm it. It’s fierce kisses and tight hugs. It’s red kiss stains on the earlobes, and swollen lips. It’s a soft fire that scorches the body and leaves the skin with a golden glow, seen by the heavens. These kinds coexist, in battle oftentimes, yet when one, are equivalent to the infinite beauty of the world.

-when he says he’ll give you the world