It's a unique piece of work, an honest exploration of love from the inside. A philosophical struggle with it. In short love is perhaps a fiction constructed by the subject, but one that the subject is unable to control. There is a constant tension between expectations, realization, and memorialization. E.g. from a random quote site:
Am I in love? --yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.
The gesture of the amorous embrace seems to fulfill, for a time, the subject's dream of total union with the loved one: The longing for consummation with the other... In this moment, everything is suspended: time, law, prohibition: nothing is exhausted, nothing is wanted: all desires are abolished, for they seem definitively fulfilled... A moment of affirmation; for a certain time, though a finite one, a deranged interval, something has been successful: I have been fulfilled (all my desires abolished by the plenitude of their satisfaction).
-- Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments