someone asked the question: here's my answer

love is living for another
love is
joy
desire
trust
honor
warmth
silence
noise
struggle
resolution
sacrifice. sacrifice without thought. willing sacrifice knowing that what you're about to do will hurt, knowing that you won't ever be the same after, knowing that the other person can't ever even begin to comprehend how much you sacrificed. but you don't even care. you don't even want him to know your sacrifice. you hope he never finds out how much you would do to save him or help him in the least, and still want nothing in return. you want nothing in return but you get it anyway.

love is comfort in another
love is
eating
cooking
sleeping
cleaning
paying the bills
driving to the vet
bringing him an advil at 2:30 in the morning from downstairs
cleaning out a wound without flinching
covering a bill in a tight spot
lugging 8 2-liter bottles of regular coke up three flights of stairs
(but you don't drink regular coke, only he does)
watering his 3000 plants when he's away
(twice a day)
doing anything at the mere hint of desire
(but sometimes giving him well-deserved attitude and then doing it anyway)
knowledge. knowledge of what he wants, his basic modus operandi, his past and his future, his love of cuisine and music and reading and history and politics and bbc mini-series and satire and art and everything that makes life rise above the toil. knowledge that he knows the same about you, and will work to make sure you get everything you want.

love is a pain in the ass
love is
work
daily drudgery
endless car-rides
annoying relatives
boring relatives
waits in the dentist office lounge
a bad night of gas
a bad morning for bad breath
that pimple on the back that just won't go away
routine. routine of acceptance, of habit, of knowing there will always be the bad things, but that a shared bad thing is always better than experiencing the bad thing alone. that you secretly enjoy the imperfections, love them in and of themselves as a reminder that you yourself are human and mortal, and that you can't love perfection, because it isn't human or mortal, or real. love is love of something real.

love is desire
love is
rapture
passion
burning
longing
salivating like a dog at dinner time
abandon
(even reckless abandon)
losing yourself in his limbs
begging for mercy
begging for pain
wanting the climax now
wanting the climax to never come
thrashing in the mess
carnal knowledge. an intimate carnal knowledge that you could never want to begin to feel with another. the feeling that only he will do, and that no other can approach. fantasizing about another just feels empty and cold. being with another feels like death.