Is Love Always so Cheesy?

Two thoughts from today: I don't think I've ever been satisfied with any ending I've ever read; I don't think I've ever missed another person as much I missed Morgan in the week she was gone.

Another thought: I think I'm falling in love with her. What a feeling that is.

Okay, so another thought: Is this falling in love? Like heart racing and chest all tight, scared nervousness that ends somehow precariously with a grin? Is love always so cheesy? Is it always so restless and aching? Does cautiousness precede love? Should I stop kicking rocks, or climbing trees, or recounting conversations and trying to memorize the feel of her fingers all laced up with mine?

I nod along to love songs. I've been smiling at strangers in the street.

For real, all of this is real. I've never felt like this about anyone before. I've never wanted to write someone love poems before.

I wish there was some way to write about "love" without ever having to say the word.