Love has no color, though it runs through us deeply, leaving traces of memories and sunsets. Love is the color of the way the sun hits your special one’s eyes, or the way those eyes look up into forever on a moonlit night. Love is the color, of their smile when they talk to you, or when they cry, their frown spreads a million words they cannot speak. Love is the color of one afternoon lying beneath everything else, and resting safe and protection of their arms. Love has a color so bright it could be seen in black and white. Love has no color, because love is deeper then Crayola could ever name. Love has no name, yet you could label it to everything. Love is not a feeling, or a color, or even something you say, it’s something you know.
