Love rises. Love falls.

It comes down to the small things. Did they cuddle in bed the same way we do? Did they have nicknames? Did he use that same cute voice? Did they share the same secrets, or was the secret of their infidelity enough? The small things poison my thoughts, and then I question everything. Not his love for me, though. He says he still loves me and I believe him. Love is bigger than all the small things put together. Love is big enough to be taken for granted.