Love strips away our pretense of ordinariness—it's not that romance makes us suddenly eloquent, but that it demands we articulate what matters most, forcing precision where we'd otherwise settle for silence. Plato suggests something subtler than Hallmark sentiment: that love itself *is* the act of paying attention so closely to another person that language becomes unavoidable, even for those who've never written a line. Watch how a grieving parent suddenly finds words to describe their child's particular way of laughing, or how someone newly in love notices and names details about another person that prose-writing wouldn't otherwise capture. The poetry isn't ornamental—it's the honest speech that emerges when stakes are highest and evasion costs too much.