Category Archives: valentine
You may wonder what this is about. I have been meaning to confess for ages, but never managed to speak a word without stumbling and stuttering as I looked into your kind brown eyes. So I write this letter, assuming that you are listening to my voice.
Some thoughts within tell me they are not meant to be caged. They want to fill the air around you with their desperation. I will proceed to carry their messages.
You have devoured my sanity! How you walk past me, in every dream, smiling that knowing smile. You occupy the silence in my throat. You make yourself at home when I am sitting idle.
I never try to stop you from taking my soul into your own fathomless heart, because I cannot. It is as if you held a rope of flowers, wrapped it securely around my heart, and pulled gently. That is how you coax me into doing myself something good.
I feverishly write some more, about the way I can stare at you without blinking. It is as if you are a dream so beautiful and fragile that any movement will disturb it. And I shall not risk that! You sitting there, engrossed in the mundaneness of the newspaper, are a celestial vision I will never regret being gifted with, every day.
You will agree with me about how, when one stands in a spot of sunshine on an otherwise cold day, the warmth is a cocoon around bare skin. How one can stand in the pleasant brightness for a long time, hugging yourself, eyes closed and smiling. That is what you do to me when you give me that sparkling smile at the end of every day.
If I banged my little toe into the corner of my desk, imagine the pain. Multiply that a thousand fold, and you will probably understand how it feels when you have to go away for a while. It is a merciless agony that takes control when I miss you.
I once picked at rose petals and just when I mentioned ‘loves me not’, I pricked my finger and an angry drop of blood admonished me. How dare I presume thus? I deserved the reprimand, for you can be anything except ‘not in love with me’.
Imagine being thirsty and not having a drop of water to drink, parched throat and all. On a really bad day, I look heavenwards and plead for mercy, and He sends you, with a river of kindness meant to soothe me. That is how a mere brush of your fingers makes me feel.
Sometimes when I lose control of my senses and make you the unwilling object of my anger, I say go to hell. A moment later, I will have realized that even hell would be sweetened by your presence.
Speaking of hell, I wonder what the angels in heaven are doing right now. They can happily play all the harps they want and brag of unprecedented bliss, but I have YOU. And that makes me happier and more blessed than them.
As I sit here in anticipation now, imagining the little laugh lines around your eyes that will surely form at these juvenile proclamations, I believe that this letter will truly convey my feelings for you. I love you.