The night our worlds collided, You were the becoming of me, and I, yours.
You wrapped yourself around me in a way, impeding any inch of me to slip through your fingers.
I remember mapping your skin and reaching your lips then gasping, breathing heavily into you, on you, and with you, soaking the entirety of your caramel skin and bare soul.
As I lay beside you, I felt strangely empty then all too fulfilled as if I were overflowing with your existence and mine.
Darling, you were both, challenging and comforting, you subtly drew me within you, later unbuttoned the intimate corners of my mind, and thoroughly savored every bit of me. The night our worlds collided, you were the becoming of me, and I, yours.
-a.ch// the night we happened
I love a little too much, with an embarrassing passion.
It silently creeps into my chest, and spreads its branches, ropes itself around me until every fiber of my being is screaming “I love you” and “I want you”. It generously sits on the outline of my lips where his lips should’ve been, aching, longing to confess “I can’t stop thinking of you”. It weighs on my shoulders where his sleepyhead and the annoying sound of his snores should’ve been.
These feelings burn through me, settle when nearly everything’s turned to ashes. Then, I no longer want them.
-a.ch// inspired by a poet.
When I look at you, I see the sky, unpredictable & beautiful.
When I look at you, I see the sunset down by the dock, surreal & warm.
When I look at you, I’m reminded of the hundred dozen strangers on the train, unaware, bemused, & curious.
When I look at you, I’m reminded of the vintage love-poems of the early 60s & 70s, authentic & aesthetic.
When I look at you, I’m reminded of the incessant knock-knock jokes you crack in the middle of the night, silly & cutesy.
When I look at you, I’m fueled with passion to love you, completely & unconditionally.
When I look at you, I see a butterfly perched on a flower, playful & beguiling.
Darling, every time I look at you, I see my future, my life, happy & eternal.
-a.ch// random midnight endearments
Baby, you & I under the lilac sky. With your head laid on my thigh, it’s a different kind of high. Every inch of you is art, you’re a piece of my heart. I won’t let you come in the way of harm, I’ll keep you tucked right here in my arms.
Baby, I didn’t believe in magic yet I wished upon a shooting star and here you are. I didn’t know what I’d missed up until the moment we kissed. Guess, I got lucky since I found the love of my life, now, I can’t wait to be your wife. Baby, you & I under the lilac sky.
-a.ch// part of a love song
The gentle moonlight slid on her porcelain skin, it draped itself around her, much like a silky cocoon and poured itself in the cracks and crevices of her anatomy. The wonder dancing beneath the night sky was now, glaring, as a true moon child.
-a.ch// romantic about the moon
Chandler and Monica, They’ve taught me how love can sprout in the most unexpected places. The kind of love that’ll kiss your face gently like the first few raindrops, and then hold you in its embrace till you’re drenched. That when love finally arrives, it will be in the shape of a beautiful dream. And love will be understanding, compassionate and caring but most of all, it will feel right and easy. It will believe in you and stand by you. Love will stare at you with a smile on its face, fully aware of its affection for you, and you’ll stand there staring back at it knowing you have the entire world before your eyes. How nurturing that love will blossom into a companionship for always and forever. And, every “I love you” will have a silent “I can’t believe I’m with you”. This love will be your friend, solace, and sanity.
~a.ch// fictional characters
This Sunday afternoon, I decided to clean my house and redecorate it. It was long overdue, I’d been putting it off for a month or two now. While cleaning, I happened upon a carton of books.
The books that I fondly read and re-read when I was seventeen. I had a habit of marking intriguing lines, words, quotes, and dialogues, well, I still do. I surfed through a couple of them and began reminiscing. I felt skittish, and for some reason, there were butterflies in my stomach as I recalled the glorious days of awkward teenage years. Of course, I’m exaggerating for effect. But, I sure was a hopeless romantic as I am now and the books I read only enabled the young lover in me. With each book, I reacquainted myself with the memories attached to it. My brain, was flooded with these thoughts, and emotions were on overdrive as I was emptying the carton.
And, there it was, my favorite book, the book responsible for the epic love of a lifetime. The book I fell asleep with, and woke up to, rolled over to the other side of the bed, the book filled with little notes and the initials of two names outlined with a heart, the book I used to quote love letters, the book that you gave me, our book.
I picked up our book as if it were a newborn baby, I stared at the cover for a few minutes and hesitantly opened it. A withered Tulip fell from it, the Tulip you stole from Mrs. Lynn’s garden. It was a late winter evening, and we went to the pier with a bottle of cheap alcohol. We were drunk and dancing under the soft light of the lamppost. Then, like a typical lovesick moment in a book, you kissed me. Funnily enough, I can still feel the taste of the alcohol on your lips. That evening marked the beginning of our epic love. I stuck the Tulip in our book as a souvenir, to secure our memory. Years after, my heart’s fluttering as I relearn the rhythm we danced to that evening. I think, I’ll store the winters where my heart belongs the most to ensure that there will be several years after.
~a.ch// fragments of fond memories// young love
My friend stared at me with questioning eyes when I told her that I was okay. She was hesitant at first, then she diligently rephrased her question and asked, “are you sure that you’re okay? you know you don’t have to pretend around me, right?”
I paused for a moment, and looked at her face, it had been a while since I’d noticed someone else, she was sad, confused, and concerned. Her face at the time reminded me of that summer afternoon, when we were watching ‘Hachi: A dog’s tale’ and she suddenly started sobbing uncontrollably. It went on for about a week and finally stopped after we brought our own Hachi home. So, I knew, she won’t budge till I reassured her.
Then I explained, “I’m okay because he’d been preparing me for this. After a couple of thousands of fights, I began caring less and less. My faith in our relationship shrank like his attention in our conversations. The burning sensation inside my chest simmered as did the love in his actions, kisses, and touch. I couldn’t recognize him anymore, It felt as if I’d been sleeping next to a stranger. I got so lost in watering a dead plant that I forgot to water myself. I grew exhausted from holding on with bleeding hands, so I ultimately gave up. Of course, I still love him and a part of me always will but it’s time I gave the love I have for myself a chance.”
She didn’t ask or say anything after that, we just sat beside each other in silence, watching Sleepless In Seattle.
~a.ch// conversation after a breakup
“I don’t like you but I love you”
“Well, because I don’t like who I am with you. I’m..different around you. I fear being vulnerable but with you, I just don’t. I’m weak. You know, If you ever break my heart, I’ll spend years mending it, and then bring it back to you to destroy it, all over again.
You’re like the movies I watch, on purpose to cry because otherwise, I don’t allow myself that liberty.
You’re like those words rolling on the tip of my tongue when I’m overwhelmed but, I end up swallowing them instead.
You’re the cigarette I smoke immediately after a breakdown.
You’re the incomplete ending of books that I wish didn’t end.
Do you understand? I don’t like you because you encourage me to reveal versions of myself that I don’t bother acknowledging. But, this is also why I love you. Twisted, isn’t it?
~a.ch// fragments from a conversation
I’ve dreamt this dream a thousand times. Where I’m laid up against you, brushing your skin with the tip of my fingers and gently planting kisses along the way. The sweet taste of your lips, the color of your eyes, the warmth of your body, are etched on my skin and my heart. I remember little details about you like my own, as if your being is intertwined with mine. It’s hard to say if it’s true or just that I’ve dreamt this dream a thousand times.
~a.ch// things I should’ve told you