Remember how you said that the writer always feels like there is something missing, etc...? I think this is one of those cases. I actually liked the poem better for portraying that innocence. I sometimes think people miss what love is really about. Love is not just about passion, love is the little things as well. Love is curling up together watching a movie, getting dressed up and going to dinner, being in each others company. It is holding hands, taking a walk, talking about the silly inconsequential parts of each others day. Of course I have been told I'm a hopeless romantic, and that love is passion, but I think it's a mixture of both... anyway, just a weird thing my hopelessly stressed brain thought I need to bring up, again. I am still having trouble with the second though. When I read it all together I don't like it, but when I read the first and third together as one, I think that you need it. I don't know, something about it is throwing me off track when I read. Then again, it has been a long, long day, and I need to sleep, so I'm probably transposing words, and my voice inflections might not be as intended when I speak.
Good luck, I have had fun reading, and imagining.