As a naïve young man who is yet to decipher my inner self, only so he can boldly claim my heart, tonight is your time for I’m about to enlighten you with stories that have written down my existence. If you trust yourself as a careful listener, consider it a test of your potential as one. May I also mention, that although you’ve repeatedly reminded me of your non-judgmental character, tonight I ask for it? You must listen to all that my heart has held on to, ever since my eyes met yours, and how it has struggled since to carefully note down every detail and feel every emotion, before it is prepared to set out for a new adventure, which someday might also lead us to wake up next to each other, not as plain romantic lovers, but as partners bonded by the ring of love.
You ask me if it is love that I feel for you. Surely, it is a strong emotion, but I choose to ask you, what do you know of love? What do you think it is? Tonight let me tell you how a hopeless romantic and a devoted lover as me think it to be. Love to me is the soothing comfort you feel as you lay your head against his chest, after a rigorous day at work. Love to me is when you look at him smiling, and you know it’s a good day. Love to me is when you collapse every minute, but he is willing to pick you up again. Love to me is when it’s just the howling winds, and a peaceful lane devoid of people, as the birds circle the clear blue horizon, and suddenly nothing seems colorless but full of life, soulful. Love to me is when there is joy in silence, with him by your side. Love to me is when you cry, and loathe, as you snort and your nose turns red, and your eyes hurt from all the tears, and he still sits in silence watching you, for you’re still a child in his eyes. Love to me is when your failures don’t scare him, and tells you they are the stepping stones, and that he’d walk alongside you. Love to me is the realization, that this man is my refuge, and the day the world caves in on me, he would be waiting on the other side, with a reassuring smile. Love to me, is the faith that amidst all the worst and dread, he would never abandon me, for we are all we have for each other.
You may wonder what makes me different. You see, these words and paragraphs aren’t my way of making you fall for my naïve and teenaged heart, but a conscious attempt of mine to let you see the spent soul in me that still longs for a man like you. Think of me as an unfortunate child who loves like an artist loves his art, or the ether loves the rain, yet was never exposed to the pure form of affection that is unfiltered, selfless, patient, and liberal. Think of me as the mislead lover who thought it was real whenever a random man gave her the least possible. Think of me as an exhausted little one, who still longs for a love that never abandons her when she leaves her heart bare. Think of me as the personification of permanence, and I promise to never deceive you, for I know the pain of betrayal, just like a soldier knows the hurt of wounds in a battle.
You see I wasn’t born as a crazy romantic. However I knew love drove you crazy. Although you do feel your heart pounding when his face resembles sheer divinity, what keeps you holding on to them is how you catch yourself smiling whenever they smile. I had a ‘first time’ when someone said he loved me. But as I grew up, I reckoned not everyone realizes what love really is. Either it happens only once, or it doesn’t fade away in a few months. That was the day I discerned that attraction was not love. Real love never ends, it either exists somewhere in the corner of your heart, or consumes you entirely. If today, you don’t love the same, it was never love to begin with.
The day you spoke to me, I didn’t pay heed to your words, and how they beautifully escaped your soft lips, and sounded like music to my ears. What I rather was attentive towards, is how grown you were as a person with emotions. I would rather confess that I did want to kiss you, but my racy and disobedient heart had other plans. It demanded patience and guided attention. It was immensely curious to test your endeavors, and it wanted to affirm whether you were the man I had dreamt of as a teenage kid. I can’t tell if love had already begun to bloom, but I am certain the foundations were laid. To know of your being, I never needed a zillion hours. You seemed so crystalline to me, I could read you through your eyes, and write you with your words. You surely are a curious man, and I wouldn’t shy away from saying that it did pull me towards you, but not entirely. I sensed a similarity in our pain. I sensed a resemblance in our personalities. You were tired, and I was too. Was it time that we needed each other? That dull-witted heart screamed a ‘yes!’, but I rebuked it in response. “Patience”, I reminded myself, and continued to test you in words. And just like that, days would pass by, and you would occasionally write to me, but you never spoke to me. Your fingers typed countless phrases, but your heart kept silent, as if cautious of any colossal damage. And I’d smile, realizing how you resemble me so well. Yet, you see, I am an author. And although not all readers are writers, all writers certainly read. And I read through your utterances. Although in the initial days, it hurt me to see you admire my appearance and not my soul; I questioned myself asking how you could anyway, when it was scarred by the ravages of time. But that was until one blissful evening, you told me you wanted me to stay. I vividly recall myself blushing beyond limits, merely staring at my phone’s screen, as you continued to type in intervals. My face would flush red, and my grin wouldn’t stop, as I constantly covered my face with my right hand, foolishly imagining you standing in front of me, watching me go crimson for you! And so my love, the scene was set, the script was written, and the final edit was eagerly awaited for. And it all came to materialize on the 14th of December, the night I just didn’t want to let go of you.
That night I was certain my intuitions had not lied. The Universe was giving me another chance to let go of all my miseries, and be blissfully in love with you, truly, madly, deeply. But now is the time I tell you that I come with a disclaimer. Tell me dear love, how do you heal a bruise that has become black with time? Do you think the bare minimum would suffice, or extra care is demanded when situations grow worse? I don’t ask you to be my physician and write me prescriptions for the rest of my life to follow, but if I may, cant I ask you to be that aid that would be there for me, whenever the pain grew severe? If you fall a hundred times, I’d pick you a thousand times. If love is a poem, I am the poet. If love is a song, I am the singer. If love is an illness, I am the patient. If love is an accident, I am the victim. If love is a muse, I am the dreamer. If love is an art, I am the painter. So if to me, love is you, I am your beloved. I have never fancied abandonment, and of that I’m certain. But if tonight I decide to make you my home, would you choose to reside in it? I’m in two minds.
Reflections of the eccentric bard! 