a daylight dream

  I wake, your face a shoreline gold. the sun has risen to your closed eyes once more, a memory of melancholic truthfulness, given the eternity I spent traversing the maps of your distant gaze. there's this thing about us; a push and pull of titanic tides and dreams of watching moonlight glowing across horizons of our dreamscapes. I like that you're tailoring time just for me. just for this love to stretch its droplets of colour on the canvas of this aloneness we're sharing for some years. just you and me; a sacred touch, a gentle gaze, the intensity a propeller of all the sweetness in the hearts that have never known but to envision something different than what they're used to. I find it divinely honouring that there is nothing you come home to but this heart. you look into my eyes to find lost pieces of yourself; the brokenness shards of glass so invisible that it is only mine to see. in wordlessness, all we have is this space of unbroken gazes and all the unanswered

Love seems to be memorised, for my fingers slide to hold your hand the first moment I’m awake. It’s the very first thing I do, and it has always been, even before the fleeting lifetime we had together. I was used to you not being here for so long, and  I missed you . Still, those fingers could dream of what it would be like to be loved, and they were contented until I had you here for a while. It feels wrong to say it’s been a while since it’s been ages, maybe timeless infinities, of our togetherness. A moment of waking next to you was all of it. God has foreordained that I outlive the ones I love, and now I suffer to do it all over again, unsure whether this is still missing you. I’ve missed you before, a time before I knew your name, and a time long afterwards. There was the time when you were here, and it was another kind of missing you, while looking into your eyes and breaking before the celestial connection you’ve gifted me. I couldn’t look into those inscrutable eyes of yours fo

The first thing my eyes see is the dark canvas of a sky turning a glorious navy blue. The curtains are not drawn, the windows are open, and the chilly March morning breeze finds its way to the skin of my arms. I smile instantly and I hear your breaths, which reminds me to ask myself what day of the week it is. Because everyday is so different than the other, I've adopted this habit of taking the very few first seconds of my day reorienting myself for what the day should behold. And today is our weekend, dearest. A time to rewind, connect, celebrate and stay outside of these four walls. The very notion springs in my head and I wake with such a powerful burst of energy, stretching my arms with a wide smile, my heart beating ecstatically, praying for blessings, abundance and positivity for the day ahead of us. Since its spring, my weekend mornings are spent quite uniquely. Despite wanting to snuggle up near you, hearing you breathe and mumble absurd sounds in your sleep a

We picked our room to face the east, just like we have planned it out in our dreams. We pictured the light blue walls and satin curtains, allowing the crimson sunlight to welcome the royal shade of our walls, bit by bit, till they turn blazing enough to wake our eyes. Also, just like the dreams of our youth, we eventually ended up together, close enough to share the perfection of sunrise with such inexplicable intimacy. As soon as you open your eyes, you can't help but look to the right, in anticipation to the smile you've always been waiting for. The smile of our very first sunrise story, my dearest one. We have depicted so much in words and make-beliefs, but this is ever so real and enchanting. I open my eyes, too, but this time, it's not the sunshine that captivates me. It's  you . It's the mere thought that I can immerse my soul into the grace of our companionship. It's the very notion that I'm able to extend my hand this time and find your

We are lying down, face-to-face, and you’ve woken up before me. The moment my eyes open, I can see your inscrutable look, gazing at me like an inextinguishable flame of love. I spend a few moments looking into those beautiful, dark eyes of yours, the distance between them an infinite dimension I could never decipher. Your long, graceful fingers find themselves entwined between my hair, cupping my face with such gentleness that breaks my heart open. My chest inflates with warm air and those little molecules vibrate, touching my ribs, and every exhale feels like a release of a weight so heavily alien. I close my eyes, feeling the tears sting the round ends of my irises, slowly cascading down my cheeks like a soft, blue stream. I bury my face into your chest and feel your arms hold me. My skin touches yours, and I feel held safe, protected and whole. My body becomes as light as a rose, perfectly placed, fitting into your own. Your skin has found a way to hold me without being

It’s late into the night and you’re not at home but I’m in our little plant-laden balcony, my eyes fixated on the vast space before me; on those little glittery stars flickering in haphazard frequencies that I am very fond of— aligning with the very depth of my heart. And it’s okay that you’re not at home. Dearest, I respect this distance. We’ve been distant for a long time and it didn’t weaken our unearthly bond. We have agreed upon the notion of us treading disparate paths, yet always bound by love. So it’s okay, my dear.  You never have to be here so that we can be together. I place my hands on my heart. I close my eyes and allow the canvas of our sky to lay still and silent in my mind. Gently, I place my head on the pillow and drift into a mystical sleep, filled with peace and quiet, breaths that leave my chest to let go fears and bring in love. The first thing I wake up to is the sound of the blackbirds chirping against the faint peachy rays of light emerging away

I pretend to forget to draw the curtains every night before we go to sleep, because something in me just wants to watch the car-lights reflect on our golden walls just before we fade to the darkness of our minds in the hours of the night. My eyes just desire to wake up each morning with the sun shining brightly, and I don’t want to sleep in,  ever , with such a blessing to witness every single day. And this morning, I wake up to a ray of light streaming in a straight line towards the mirror, and my eyes follows its reflection in a daze, till I land on a beautiful tiny rainbow on our desks. I smile— and I hope it’s an omen to make our day as colourful as we possibly can. And then I look at you, dearest, facing me, your gentle eyes asleep and I can see your imperfections clearly. Just a few summers ago, this moment was a dream— and now I wake up to watch you breathe. And then I think to myself— I touch my face and I realise   I’m so imperfect, too. I imagine you open your ey

On the first day of love, we are sat down on the wooden, bare floor of our little home. A pool of shadowed light rests on our feet, and we extend our toes to touch it in playfulness and joy. It’s our very first morning together and though it would have been more comfortable to sleep through the early hours, intuition carried us to that spot, in front of the balcony window, the clouds accumulated by the horizon of that little ordinary sky. And we are waiting— waiting for a moment so spectacular, one that we have reiterated in our dreams. And we wonder in doubt, will it be the same? Will it be as unearthly and captivating? Or were our hearts carried away by a draft of summery love? We sit still, eyes partly closed, minds wandering realms of our visions. But slowly and then all at once, it hits me— this wave of restlessness, this tide which washes me every single time, the racing heart beats, shallow breaths and unbearable tendency to stand up and just do something—  anything

The faint light is flowing by the eastern corner of our room and my eyes meet life. I take a deep breath and look at you, sleeping, and a swelling wave of gratitude soaks me, hides deep inside of this rattling cage of a heart and never finds a way out. Slowly, I walk away, outside. My footsteps are strides, following a calming echo of the ripples embracing the banks of that little stream we adore, touching the mouldy moss surrounding it. The ripples are reflecting ethereally infinite flickers of the eastern light and they glow in my eyes, and I’m nothing but this reflection of what I see, my vision fixated on my own soul, wrinkly as the water moves back and forth. I close my eyes, and as always, I remember you . I remember you in these moments of darkness because I need your enlightenment. For a long time, I’ve lived with my whole shame and guilt put upfront, facing the world. I live a long time shying away from the truth, from my darkness and demons, and I pretend that th

With the infinite blueness before us, enclosed within droplets of water sliding gracefully over each other, resurrecting the soul of sounds we can hear as the waves swell from below, we stand. The sounds are heavenly, expansive and therapeutic. They tempt us to have our eyes closed for a while, in contemplation. I clasp my hand to find your fingers within them, and a clench in my chest releases many oppressed shivers. I remember clasping them before, only to find a thin veil of air to hold on to, and how I wished I would find your fingers instead, for the sake of safety, of warmth, of understanding. But now they are here, for real. They are as safe as I expected them to be. In the palm of your hand lie fingers that long to be held and guided, and so you hold them close, in a silence akin to a million burning stars in distant galaxies, their light evanescent and beautiful. You don’t have to say anything, as we feel the light of the rising sun caressing the very tip of our h

The night in May is short and restless, very soon interrupted by a choir of birds, fluttering their light wings and melodising the lyrics of our dreams. And slowly, and quite gracefully, the sun births and sends its overarching gleams to our room, the light so swift and the colour a hopeful yellow. I wake almost so suddenly, quite surprised by the lack of darkness and the vast presence of clarity. The first thing I remember is to be grateful, for I know that the morning is always a chance to start anew and rise free from yesterday’s judgements and mistakes. It’s always an opportunity for me to be a new person, to be the hope and love that I wish could embody me and fade my humanity away, which is a disappointment, because the day brings many challenges and tribulations with it as well. However, as the sun shines and the clouds trespass it ever so gently, I’m not bothered to think about what could go wrong, but rather about the responsibility that lies within me to make it a ra

I wake up next to you, like I always do, and this chilly, brisk April morning is forcing me to bring the blanket closer to my skin, to feel warm and safe somehow. And this morning, I do really want to smile and show you the beauty rising before us this very instant, yet suddenly, my power fades and falters, like vapours rising from a forceful, gushing ocean. The glimmer wakening in my heart fails to ignite, so I wrap myself around the covers more gently, spending a few minutes lost in thought. Dearest, I love you. It’s a faith I want to scream out loud in graceful melodies. But some days, I’m a little bit unsure, a little bit unsafe to speak how I truly feel; for it’s often guilt and shame that encompasses every idea that runs through my head, when the notion is darkened with loathe and contempt. Deep down I know I am grateful, and there is this shower of mindfulness soaking me inwardly. But days like today, I can’t quite recognise it. I can’t project this beautiful, flow

Sometimes, deep into the night, I hear the door opening. I hear muffled footsteps and keychains placed on the table and I know it’s you. I know because I can sense tiredness and questions contained in your chest, waiting to be gracefully said, instead of being twisted and turned over and over again in deafening silence. I hear your rough breaths coming nearer and my eyes slowly open. The bed is cold and you’re needing warmth, perhaps not the kind I could ever give to you, because dearest, you’re tired. We’re both tired. We didn’t know that making a living would be this hard, bringing us down with constant challenges and sacrifices to be made. We still have a home to build and a family to cater for and some nights, like today, the weight of it all falls heavily on our shoulders and we want to give it a rest. We know that what we’re working hard for is valuable and beautiful but, we just cannot think that way today. If it were that beautiful, then why do we seem to be fighti

The dusky sky is blazoned with planets and faint stars flickering from afar. A distant moon is peeking gently from the west, evoking an intention to become more grounded, pulling us down by gravity, allowing our feet to sink in the ground with gratitude. We are walking on a road that sparked many conversations, but now we are having our very own real ones. Nothing much has changed, perhaps reality and its troubles more overwhelming, our energies waning, potential fluctuating— but it’s still us, most of the time, at least when we’re together, we turn back to a time we trusted faithfully, so it saved itself for us, granting us an eternity we never dreamed of. And while we are walking, we share this deep connection to what’s surrounding us. The sun rising from the east is simply painting a canvas before us with the freshly-coated colours of spring— the world is glistening in our eyes. We cannot help but marvel and gasp in admiration at how free beauty sometimes is. Perhaps it

Instead of a thumping heart in your chest, there is a dear symphony of calmed quivers. Your heart is the only sound I can hear on a chilly January morning, and it's soft and slow, like a muffled dawn chorus, trilling in the background. I put my ears against your chest, magnetised by this beautiful and heavenly sound. I am gravitated towards it as my eyes force open, whilst it’s still dark and quiet. For your heart is perhaps a sanctuary of ideals, grace and support. It is a home of peace, discipline and righteousness. It is my favourite place in the entire world, to get closer to it, to even get touched by its simplicity. I close my eyes while I listen to your steady breathing, a sign of a beautiful life embodied in you. The colours sneak into the room and I smile. I lift my head to see your face, your peaceful features visible and true. And though in minutes we should be up and awake, I lay beside you, projecting myself into every single second in vivid presence, grat

The December sun rises almost too briefly. All at once, the warm yellow light embraces the buildings and the world is a little bit more charmed by a subtle glow, the kind that hits my eyes and makes me smile. I tell myself that it’s been so long since I had taken the time to watch the sun. I have missed her dearly. I missed her sense of direction and safety that she always blesses me with. I missed her divergent colours at different angles and times of the day. Against all odds of having not much time, I walk out to the balcony and simply watch the ordinary come to life. I remind myself that I haven’t been gentle with myself lately. I have been a waterfall of who I am, simply flowing and flowing powerfully, taking shape of the whole world as it is forced downwards to reality. I have been desiring change and trying new things out, when perhaps who I am is to settle down and be quite reactive to what surrounds me. Reality is quite challenging, isn’t it? It makes us chang