“Darling, it’s time to wake up and get ready for work.”
I wake to this phrase everyday, to the rolling melodious voice of my beloved, and to the warm smile that was as beautiful as dawn. My beloved would place a chaste kiss to either side of my cheeks, and to my forehead on the occasion. These little acts of love that she showers on me every morning brighten my day more than anything else.
I often wish that I could do the same for her, but sleep is like a stubborn child which clings on to my consciousness for as long as it could, coyly luring me with the prospects of wonderful dreams. I have been chided more than once by my family and my love for oversleeping, earning myself the title of ‘sleepyhead’. The rare days where I did wake up earlier than the woman I adore were spent in bliss as I absorbed the image of my angel in slumber, and giggling to myself at the sounds of her cute snores.
Inadvertently, there were times where I awoke in the middle of the night, drenched in a body of cold sweat. Nightmares that didn’t make sense were usually the result of a stressful day, where the prospect of sleep was both tantalizing and filled with caution. In retrospective though, the human need of sleep usually wins in such situations.
Ah, but I love it when the opposite happens… where my dreams are filled with happiness and love of anything wonderful. I have dreamt of my ideal future for the both of us, as well as promotions in my workplace amongst some others. It never ceases to amaze me what a human mind when combined with sleep could do. Such is the way of life, I suppose.
And before I knew it, it was time to say hello to a stubborn old friend again. Oh well.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
4. Euphoria
Did you ever know, that I cried at the thought of losing you?
Have you ever wondered how much you meant to me?
Words are never enough to tell you how I feel.
For you though, I must try.
Your eyes remind me of the bright sun, shining in love and warmth as you looked at me. Sometimes, you peep – other times, you stare directly into my eyes, showering me with your love. I love your eyes, because they are windows to your soul… and they tell me I am loved.
I love your arms. Arms that make me feel safe and home, where I know I belong. They are like the tree branches of a big tree, sheltering me from the storms and the scorching heat, giving me a secure haven where I can rest and cry in. But I love your hugs even more than your arms, for your hugs hold me so close to you. I love being held by you.
My dear chubby bunny, I can’t help but laugh at your silly gestures and animated looks. I adore the way you behave, and how honest and funny you are, even without trying to humour me. It was what first drew me to you – your sense of humour and fun. I will continue to delight in laughing at you, because it’s what makes me grin 24/7 when I’m around you.
The touches of your lips against mine… the changing taste of you when you eat different things… my desire to kiss you silly or to be kissed breathless never ceased. Have I ever told you how much I loved those lips of yours, or that softness that’s uniquely you? When you kiss me, all I feel is how much you love me… and how much I want for you to kiss me forever and ever. I enjoy your kisses, sometimes even more than your touch because your lips are simply too irresistible.
You drive me crazy, you know. I especially love the way you suck on my sensitive areas. The way you touch me feels so right, even though they might hurt sometimes. I love the feel of your fingers running up and down my body, stroking at my sensitive spots. The physical way you show your love to me is so addicting, but my body sometimes lack the energy to keep up with your boundless amount of love. Nevertheless, I crave for your sexy touches.
But most of all, I love you for your bravery and your honesty, and I am certain that you will overcome your weakness with your sheer willpower and strength. I adore the way you are when you do stuff you don’t like for me, like eating that cake and the weird-tasting lunch. I know it’s strange to be someone’s guinea pig, but I love the way you give me comments on stuff I make for you.
My dear, do you now know the extent of my love for you? It is limitless and so deep that it scares me as well…
I love you.
Have you ever wondered how much you meant to me?
Words are never enough to tell you how I feel.
For you though, I must try.
Your eyes remind me of the bright sun, shining in love and warmth as you looked at me. Sometimes, you peep – other times, you stare directly into my eyes, showering me with your love. I love your eyes, because they are windows to your soul… and they tell me I am loved.
I love your arms. Arms that make me feel safe and home, where I know I belong. They are like the tree branches of a big tree, sheltering me from the storms and the scorching heat, giving me a secure haven where I can rest and cry in. But I love your hugs even more than your arms, for your hugs hold me so close to you. I love being held by you.
My dear chubby bunny, I can’t help but laugh at your silly gestures and animated looks. I adore the way you behave, and how honest and funny you are, even without trying to humour me. It was what first drew me to you – your sense of humour and fun. I will continue to delight in laughing at you, because it’s what makes me grin 24/7 when I’m around you.
The touches of your lips against mine… the changing taste of you when you eat different things… my desire to kiss you silly or to be kissed breathless never ceased. Have I ever told you how much I loved those lips of yours, or that softness that’s uniquely you? When you kiss me, all I feel is how much you love me… and how much I want for you to kiss me forever and ever. I enjoy your kisses, sometimes even more than your touch because your lips are simply too irresistible.
You drive me crazy, you know. I especially love the way you suck on my sensitive areas. The way you touch me feels so right, even though they might hurt sometimes. I love the feel of your fingers running up and down my body, stroking at my sensitive spots. The physical way you show your love to me is so addicting, but my body sometimes lack the energy to keep up with your boundless amount of love. Nevertheless, I crave for your sexy touches.
But most of all, I love you for your bravery and your honesty, and I am certain that you will overcome your weakness with your sheer willpower and strength. I adore the way you are when you do stuff you don’t like for me, like eating that cake and the weird-tasting lunch. I know it’s strange to be someone’s guinea pig, but I love the way you give me comments on stuff I make for you.
My dear, do you now know the extent of my love for you? It is limitless and so deep that it scares me as well…
I love you.
Friday, February 6, 2009
3. Heartbreak
It was the sound of shattering glass. It was the vocals of a broken singer. It was the heart-wrenching melody of a violin. It was the painful sensation of heartbreak - a fabric of one’s being torn into pieces within an instant.
The protective bindings of love were ripped away with a single claw of betrayal, violently exposing delicateness to the harsh reality. Black covers barely shielded naked skin from those tearful green eyes, as an equally bare arm sought to redeem its mistress. At the touch of those tainted hands, a chill travelled down her spine instead of the usual warmth and love, and all was lost.
She flinched from the touch.
It was broken glass. It was agony. It was the beauty of imperfection.
Heartbreak.
The protective bindings of love were ripped away with a single claw of betrayal, violently exposing delicateness to the harsh reality. Black covers barely shielded naked skin from those tearful green eyes, as an equally bare arm sought to redeem its mistress. At the touch of those tainted hands, a chill travelled down her spine instead of the usual warmth and love, and all was lost.
She flinched from the touch.
It was broken glass. It was agony. It was the beauty of imperfection.
Heartbreak.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
2. Serenity
The landscape was painted a picture of calm. Rows upon rows of oak trees surrounded the tranquil lake like guardians of a sacred place, silently waiting for the chosen one to arrive. The cloudless sky reflected on the water surface, casting an ethereal blueness in that small pool. The white beaches and fine sand of the perched lake cast beautiful imagery upon the picture; it was a dish waiting to be savoured by those with a keen eye and a camera. Such was the serenity of a paradise on Earth.
Darkness loomed in every inch of the space, and there was no wind to speak of. In this void, little was left but an occasional meteorite floating past an arbitrary planet. Great was the distance away from the universe’s star, but warmth and light still lingered on the coarse, exposed surface of random objects, bathing them in a different form of endearment. Time was incessant here – deadlines and the hustle-bustle of modern living were absent, replaced by the continuous flow of gases and liquids on these magnificent giants. Space was the paradise beyond Earth, the mixture of peace and unknown danger highlighting the calmness before storm; serenity in its best moment.
Darkness loomed in every inch of the space, and there was no wind to speak of. In this void, little was left but an occasional meteorite floating past an arbitrary planet. Great was the distance away from the universe’s star, but warmth and light still lingered on the coarse, exposed surface of random objects, bathing them in a different form of endearment. Time was incessant here – deadlines and the hustle-bustle of modern living were absent, replaced by the continuous flow of gases and liquids on these magnificent giants. Space was the paradise beyond Earth, the mixture of peace and unknown danger highlighting the calmness before storm; serenity in its best moment.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
1. Tragedy
Amidst the chaos, a single girl crawled out from a loose pile of rocks some distance away, clutching tightly to her torn teddy bear as she stared at the landscape before her. A mixture of shock and pain crossed her young features as comprehension slowly set in. That fateful instant, with her head tilted to the heavens and tears rolling down her dirty cheeks, she realized that she was now truly alone in this world.
There were screams everywhere, and the fallen rubble was aflame. The buildings that once stood magnificently in the city were reduced to a pathetic state; where there had been colors, it all became grey. Even the weather was mourning - the onslaught of rain and darkened skies terrible to one who had just lost a loved one to the earthquake. There was no joy.
It was supposed to be Christmas on this day, a season of laughter and giving.
As if the heavens were playing a sick joke to the civilians, the area most brutalized by the disaster seemed like an overgrown Christmas tree from a bird’s eye view. The destruction was akin to the dark needles of the Christmas pine, and the blinking red and blue lights of the auxiliary vehicles reflected cheerful bulbs adorning that particular tree in joy. Like an artist’s finest moment, the final brushstroke of fear was made with longing and regret as the earth finally grumbled and stilled moments later. Sweat on the backs of the anxious rescue teams mingled with the gently pelting rain as they dug through mud and stone for survivors, many of whom had died with little suffering.
Footprints of loss and pain etched deep in their souls and hearts, it was the survivors who faced the aftermath - the real tragedy.
There were screams everywhere, and the fallen rubble was aflame. The buildings that once stood magnificently in the city were reduced to a pathetic state; where there had been colors, it all became grey. Even the weather was mourning - the onslaught of rain and darkened skies terrible to one who had just lost a loved one to the earthquake. There was no joy.
It was supposed to be Christmas on this day, a season of laughter and giving.
As if the heavens were playing a sick joke to the civilians, the area most brutalized by the disaster seemed like an overgrown Christmas tree from a bird’s eye view. The destruction was akin to the dark needles of the Christmas pine, and the blinking red and blue lights of the auxiliary vehicles reflected cheerful bulbs adorning that particular tree in joy. Like an artist’s finest moment, the final brushstroke of fear was made with longing and regret as the earth finally grumbled and stilled moments later. Sweat on the backs of the anxious rescue teams mingled with the gently pelting rain as they dug through mud and stone for survivors, many of whom had died with little suffering.
Footprints of loss and pain etched deep in their souls and hearts, it was the survivors who faced the aftermath - the real tragedy.
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