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soliloquy; ephemeral landings
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Posted on Tuesday, 25 November 2014 @ Tuesday, November 25, 2014
It sears the heart inside and out, branding itself right onto the flesh itself. The cause of one too many chest pains, the reason behind tears flowing down your cheeks each time you wish the man in the photo would just step out and materialize right in front of you. You want to be in his arms, every second of every day, revel in the warmth and safety his embrace offers. It's the silent endurance of the pain of his absence, the breaking minutes where everything is not quite there in front of your eyes but entirely whole in the depths of your soul. It's the awe and admiration when you look at him, the way your chest swells when he smiles. The rushing surge of passion and relief all at once, when he's standing five steps away. He's the first person you think about whenever you come across relationship-related pictures on Tumblr or Weheartit. You want to write him a million letters telling him how much you miss talking to him, send short videos of what's going on in your side of the world. It's the wholehearted acceptance of his imperfections and matching it with your own, completing the empty blanks of your sentences with the words from his. The ringing in your ears when he kisses them softly, the chill down your spine when he places his arms around your waist and whispers words affection through the loose strands of your hair. It's the sure knowledge that he isn't going anywhere without you. The kind of love that forces you to write like you're in the 70-s, because you know it's just that kind of love. You fight for the similarities that bore you to death and the differences that make you smile. It's the foreign feeling of wanting to do anything and everything, the familiar need of drawing him close to you. The final and profound realization that life is indeed beautiful and there's nothing else you could ask for but a house and a backyard, suitcases and a fireplace. "I" becomes "we". It's possessive, obsessive, depressing and enlightening all at once, lovely, fragile, youthful and goddamn marvelous as hell, but strong nonetheless no matter what. It leaves you wondering if it's really happening, it makes you blink and think whether or not God is giving you a ridiculously long dream. You know he looks amazing regardless of what he wears, or what he doesn't wear. You want to pray for him, sing for him, make him laugh so hard until he falls on the grass. He can come home with a broken arm or a distorted face but you will still love him, never once lesser than you have, because he's one in a million and no one will ever replace that. It's where silences speak more than words do, because it gives "comfortable" a whole new meaning. You're gonna search the whole house for the pin he lent you during a dress disaster, and feel so angry if you find out your sibling lent it to someone else without your permission. It's just a pin, relax. No, it's not. It might be the only physical memory you have of him and it's yours, not anyone else's. He's the first and the last image in your mind, the most animated and real fragment. You feel it in your bones, your blood and your skin. It flutters the wings of your conscience and send you spiralling down a tornado of happiness and epiphany. You treasure it, you will always remember it through thick and thin. Because there's nothing or no one else that will ever make you feel so intensely in love than he does. He's the make and break of your entire existence, entwining it with the occurrences of his own being. It just is that way, you can't help it.
You tell people who wonder, "It just happens" and the last thing you want to do is to stop the unravelling of this beautiful, ethereal emotion.
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Kaleidoscope of Craziness
I write to change, to express, to share. All pictures are mine, unless stated. Enjoy roaming around ;) Some people are destined to sing. To act. To host a talk show. To become a songwriter for recording artistes. To take phenomenal pictures from around the world. To teach. To heal and to nurse. To be in an orchestra or to play an instrument by the streets to entertain the weary passerbys. Everyone is destined to be an individual who'll change the lives of others someday in their own unique way to touch hearts and heal broken ones. Everyone has a destiny, a road to walk and a path to remember when you're old and sitting by the fireplace, reminiscing the old times. I believe mine, is to write. FOLLOW INSTAGRAM TWITTER Tweets
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