Diamonds.

“And we created you in pairs.” – Qur’an 78:8

When the love of your life is on her knees, holding a promise of forever in the ring in her hand, and asks you to marry her, do you know what it means?

  • You’ll wake up every morning to find her sleeping beside you, or smiling at you with a warm coffee mug in her hand. And it will be routine to you, but you will smile anyway because you just love her so much. Every morning will be the same, but it’ll feel wonderful every single time anyway. You will be in love every morning, for the rest of your days.
  • Every lunch with her won’t give you butterflies but you will feel happy and alive every time she cracks a joke. She will repeat the joke again and again, and giggle endlessly, and you will be used to it. But you will laugh too, because she is undeniably weird and beautiful. (And well, the joke was funny.)
  • It’ll be an adventure. The two of you, hand in hand, will enter the jungle of happiness and insanity. You will love each other so much, and so often. The diamond on her finger will be the key to your happiness. It’ll mean forever. Commitment isn’t your strength but that’s what love is. Keeping the promise anyway. You will be thrilled every step of the way.

But it won’t always be butterflies and gardens.

  • You will see her cry, and you will feel devastated. You will realize that rubbing her shoulders won’t always comfort her, and that sometimes words just won’t be enough. And so, you will learn to hold her tight and close, and just stay. You will learn to just listen as she rants.
  • You will fight, and it won’t be easy. She really will be hurt, and sometimes you will shout at her anyway. She will shout back, and you will exchange mean words, but you will learn to apologize, and you will learn to forgive.
  • Someday, you will wake up and she won’t be there. And you will wait for her to come back, and call her whenever you can. You will realize that without her, your life is a mess. And you will be scared of losing her. She will come back almost every time, and make you the happiest you ever thought you could be. But when she does not, you will be the lost kid in the jungle. Breathing, but dead anyway.

So if you love her, if you can promise to stay after seeing every shade of her because you will, if you can assure her to always stay, then say yes. Because even though there are ups and downs, you will be in love and it’ll feel so damn amazing, that you will forget to breathe and start living.

And anyway, when Ross does it thrice, you know there is something addictive about it. Say yes, you fool.


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Bare waists and midriffs.

I don’t know why every time his fingers trail my bare waist, I feel much more than just the shiver of intimacy run up my spine.

I try to wander the corridors of my mind to find out why he feels much more than just someone I make out with.

I cannot help but notice that it’s much more than just his hair that I grab onto now. I often envelop his hands so tightly with mine.

I wake up late into the nights and crave for his lips to be pressed against my neck, and I fall asleep with my hands wrapped around the pillow as if it were him.

I repeatedly catch myself thinking about him as I tie my hair back into the ponytail that he obsesses over.

Whenever he picks me up, and looks me in the eye, I don’t look at his lips while biting mine anymore. Instead, I kiss his nose and his chest, and feel his heart beating against my lips. I think of his smile as his kisses just grazes my midriff.

Why do I get all excited and tensed as he softly tucks my hair behind my ear?

I don’t know.


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Kisses and cravings.

“I’ll make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.” – Leo Christopher

The first time I kissed her, I lit up like a Christmas tree. Heat rushed to my cheeks, my cold hands warmed up, and I had goosebumps anyway.

Right before we kissed, I spent quite some time looking at her eyes. I noticed how her eyelashes curved like the corner of her lips, how her eyes were restless like the wind before a storm, how her skin made small crinkles around her eyes, and how her lips were chapped. I looked into her dancing eyes, and could hear my heart pumping the music. I grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer like the flowers moving towards the sun. I pulled her in so that our waists were touching, and our face were only inches apart. I looked at her biting her lips, I felt her fingers cold against my neck, I placed my hand on her cheeks and leaned in.

I leaned in and kissed her and felt like this was the last time I would. The rush of blood in my veins made me hold her closer and tighter to make sure she really stays. She tasted like a sunny afternoon, chilly beaches, and tanned skin. She tasted like the wine we would open on date nights. She tasted like late night cravings, and throat burning scotch. She tasted like wild sex, funny jokes and strip poker. She tasted of shooting stars and petty wishes. She tasted like a forever.

So I kissed her passionately and tried to say the things I’d failed to say before. It seemed to be easier when no words were involved. I let my cold fingers tell her that I’d give her wintry nights, cozy blankets and hot fries. I let the loud thumping of my heart against hers tell her that I’d be just as thrilled when I kiss her after a date thirty years down the line. I let my eyelashes against her eyes tell her that above all, my only wish is to have her forever. I tell her that I’d always stay with her and watch Netflix and drink hot chocolate, rather than going out to meet people we don’t like.

I felt it. Her chest against mine, I felt her heart beating with my heart and for the first time, I realized we were both alive, as she pulled on my hair.

“The way you feel when you kiss her (him) for the first time. Like fire within your bones, like your soul has returned to the water, like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again.” – Nikita Gill.


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11:11s.

There are some things that bother me every night after 2 AM, after I listen to music with lyrics that do nothing except reminding me that you’ll never be mine.

It bothers me that I’ll never love someone this way ever again. Love changes everyday, and it bothers me that you’ll never be my constant. Someday, I might love someone else a little more than I love you, but I really don’t want to. I don’t want to fall in love with a brighter smile or a less scarred hands. Why would I when I can read your stories on your wrists in beautiful ink? Why would I when I can feel this strongly for someone so beautiful?

It bothers me that my wish of you being my first kiss will remain a wish. The world is not a wish granting factory after all.

It bothers me that I’ll never be someone you text when your hands fumble and your lips tremble and your sight blurs. It bothers me that I’ll never enter your mind when you want someone to talk to. I know I don’t deserve it, but when has that ever stopped anyone? When has worth ever weighed more than love?

It bothers me that every time you ask me something, I don’t know what to say.
When you wonder if you’re my muse, should I say that I write about you all the time, should I tell you that you’re my broken promises, 11:11s, the reason I believe in love, and my muse or just say that I write about you sometimes?

It bothers me that my always will never be your someday.


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