Love is all the beautiful things in the world.
Love is the blue in her eyes that contrasts her jet-black hair, the blue that is lighter than the color of the deep sea and darker than the color of the bright sky.
Love is the familiar scent of her perfume. Her addicting scent of vanilla and jasmine, in winter it’s the scent of baby powder and pomegranate, in summer it’s the scent of sweet berries and grapes, all of them mixed with your musky scent of oud and bergamot.
Love is the bold color of red. The same color imprinted in her stunning dress that left you breathless when you take her to the dance floor, and the trails of her lipstick on your neck that stays with you for the night, leaves you aching for more.
Love is the ache and the tenderness. The ache in your heart when it becomes a witness of the raise in your voice and the tears that start swelling on the corner of her eyes during a fight. The tenderness in your skin when it is caressed gently by her fingertips after you begged her to stay and forgive.
Love is the pancake and the coffee in the morning. The enticing smell of them when you hurriedly walked out of your room, searching for her presence that was missing from the embrace of your arms, and instead was greeted by the delicious sight of your favorite homemade pancake topped with maple syrup and coffee latte for the day.
Love is the wristwatch and the necklace. The wristwatch that you proudly wore to impress her when you first decided to ask her out, and the necklace that you gifted her on the same day, one year later.
Love is the ride in the car. The noises from the radio that accompanies you on the way to your destination, the sweet voice of her humming the song that fills the air inside the car while the thought of ditching your work and spending time with her instead occupies your mind.
Love is the promise and the goodbye kiss. The promise to meet again when the moon takes over the sun’s place, witnessed by the stars that spread across the sky, and the goodbye kiss that serves as a reminder for that promise, as well as the physical form of “good luck.”
Love is the sneaky text messages in between meetings and projects. The irrefutable proof that both of you can’t bear to be apart from each other even for just one minute. The chuckle that leaves your lips as you exchanged silly dad jokes with her to cheer each other up.
Love is the time 05:20 PM. Exactly 40 minutes away from seeing your loved one again, 40 minutes where your excitement comes back after a day of withstanding boredom, 40 minutes where you pray that your boss doesn’t tell you to work overtime.
Love is the blinding and flickering city lights behind you as you hold her hand to walk in the footpath by the river, amidst the busy street of the city that never sleeps, among other people walking with specific destinations in mind, each of them minding their businesses.
Love is the beer and the oolong tea. The beer as to make you forget the weight of today on top of your sagging shoulders, and the oolong tea for her as she reminds you that someone has to drive home tonight.
Love is the panic that rushes through your mind when you realize that you forget not to smoke in the car, as she hates the smell of cigarettes.
Love is the two cups of instant noodles, after fifteen minutes of pettily arguing what to eat for dinner, that eventually came to the final conclusion that “anything will do”, thus the instant noodles that are just as delicious as a Wagyu Steak in a fine-dining restaurant.
Love is the curiosity that sparkled in her eyes when you told her about the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, a tale of the love that is lost. The way her ears perked up when you told her about the story of Vega and Altair, a tale of the love that is eternal.
Love is the soft strings of your old guitar when you serenade her with her playlist’s number one song, Mac Ayres’ “Slow Down”, as she dances slowly to the melody, honey dripping from your eyes as you stare lovingly at her.
Love is the faint sound of her breaths while you hold her gently as if holding a porcelain, the lustful yet endearing gaze of her eyes that makes all the blood runs to your south, all of them making your mind unable to think clearly and clouds your judgment, as she encircles her arms to your neck and pulls you into a sweet kiss.
Love is the heated moments of pain and pleasure, the creaking sounds and vibrations of the mattress, the discarded clothes on the floor, the noises that you are afraid will earn a protest from your neighbors, the rough and calloused fingers of yours intertwined with her soft and tender fingers, as you make love dearly to her.
Love is the way she falls asleep on top of your chest after, the warm smile that forms on your face as you pulled a warm blanket over her delicate body, the arms that holds her while you wish her a good night and hopes that nightmares won’t come.
Love is the fast beating of your heart during your first date, as you take careful steps afraid that you’ll make a bad impression in front of her, not knowing that her heartbeats are just as fast, fast, faster than you.
Love is the pavements of the streets on your second date, brown leaves scattered on the ground while you awkwardly hesitate to reach out to hold her hand.
Love is the melting bits of your chocolate ice cream on your third date, as time seems to stand still when you can’t take your eyes off her, sunlight stretching across her face.
Love is the bouquet of Camellia flowers that you give her on your fourth date, the way her cheeks and ears blush the same shade as the flowers in her hand, that she still keep in her room even after they have wilted.
Love is the tearjerker movie that you decided to watch on your fifth date, that makes your tears fall as it tells about parting, goodbyes, farewells — a cruel reminder that someday, one must walk into the inevitable end.
Love is the rain and thunderstorms that force you to abandon your plans but make amends to you by creating an opportunity to cuddle and hug her warmly in front of the burning fireplace.
Love is the yearning and longing when you are a hundred kilometers apart, separated by the distance that seems to means so little when both of you mean so much to each other.
Love is the pride in your chest every time you see her giving it her all. The admiration in your eyes every time you see her loving more than she should, heart so full of love and sincerity.
Love is the reassurance in her words that she’ll always stay beside you, when your heart’s failing, when you feel like you can no longer keep going, but you see her at the end of the road, patiently waiting for you with the smile that has always make you able to get through it all.
Love is the contrast of personalities, hers whose heart is made of clarity and compassion, so pure and careful, while yours are hasty and reckless, heart made of rush & adrenaline.
Love is the fallen petals of the cherry blossoms, love is the beads of sweat falling from your forehead when the sun shines with more intensity than ever, love is the brown leaves falling from the tree, love is the first day when the snow falls from the sky. Some days it’s fast and reckless, some days it’s slow and careful. But both are beautiful.
To love is to feel vulnerable.
To love is to feel like a fool.
To be loved is to feel unbreakable.
To be loved is to feel like an immortal being.
Love is the way your name spilled from her lips, reminding you that even an eternity would never be enough. For you, for her, for them, for us — love, and a span of eternity, are never enough.
Love is, after all, all the beautiful things in the world.
—
“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.”
— Brian Andreas
