That love will still be love.

That love will still be love in the morning.
That love will still be love the next day.
That love will still be love the next week.
That love will still be love a hundred days from now.

It doesn’t matter how it started.
It doesn’t matter how it ended.
It doesn’t matter if you didn’t know right away;
All that matters is that you were in love, and it was epic.

That love doesn’t ever fade away.
It masks itself by new lovers and infatuations, but never dies completely;
Because love will always be love no matter how much you want to hate.
And it’s because of the hate that the love will always exist.