Love is not natural to me. I don’t go in search of it. I don’t try to get in to it. But I do love. Love cannot be contained in mere three words that I never said. Or that I said several times.
Did I say you that you are beautiful.
What did you take out of it? You, perhaps, think it must be your eyes. Or those lips. Or may be the hair, the brow or the throat. What makes you beautiful? Is it your bosoms that hides all your love for me? You do have those great legs, by the way.
What is that that makes you beautiful?
Your words are so nice as the morning dew on the tip of the blade of the grass. Your sound is soothing. When I see you I just feel it. It’s not just seeing you, it’s something beyond visual pleasure. It calms me down.
So, that must be the reason I find you beautiful. And that must be the reason that I love you.
I tried to make absent your words from you. Still, I could feel you the same way. I removed your eyes, dark and deep, and you still made me feel happy. I took your heart out and you still calmed me.
I wonder what is that that makes you, you. And makes you beautiful. What is that that makes you so pleasant? I sat in absence of every single part of your being and still felt you around me. I could smell your presence like a white jasmine in a distant garden even when I tried to destroy whatever made you.
I think this is why I love you. And I believe this is why people love each other. You could be anyone that I want you to be and yet hold your essence. You are so fluid. You are the wind in my lungs and beat in my heart.
It is because you are always you, in parts, in whole and beyond.