Love would be just another word. A word like any other: chair, books, horizon or parallelepiped. A missing word in a dictionary. An imprecise word in a song. A word written on a plaque in the desert. Love could be the desert or the song, because sometimes gives us a kind of passion in others, an affection in our ear.
Who knows the love go unnoticed, silent stillness so that not distract my attention from the other silly things in the world. Who knows what love would come as promotional mailings reach, we knead, and  we throw it away. Who would know if love is like a rose among the other roses in bouquet, and looking up, everything is so equal. Perhaps it was an unknown street, a hand cream, a way to smile or look, a mania, an Arab dish, a pizza, a fish that lives only in the Aegean Sea, a brand of shampoo or clock, a taste of juice, a fruit. Although for all, be all the way.
But could be almost anything, if it is not all. Could not have significance or meaning, if were not you. If only for a moment, you had not been so deep. If only for a moment, I had not loved you, it would have been useless, as it would have been in vain.
Love comes after you, and the words come after love. So cliché, so stupid, when you say you love and feel loved that you forget the rest of the world. It is worth noting all right when the heart awakens.
Love could be just a word ... if was not for you