Maybe, whilst not being on the lookout for it, I found my slice of sukoon, something that once seemed too utopian a concept to be mine.
With everything in me, if I were to string words together to define what it is, I would be at a sheer loss of words, yet it would always amount to a single one: you.Sukoon is nothing but a state of existence where the heart and mind are utterly calm, yet eagerly vested in acknowledging the profound and all-encompassing charm that defines bliss. To me, that bliss spells as your name. For what else could it be, when days commence with you and nights fade into hues of dusk, all inscribing your name on the badge my soul proudly flaunts for being yours.
In all the languages I know, my thoughts would always read like a poem about you, and still, that would not encapsulate even an inkling of the sea of tenderness I carry within my heart for you.
If only I could open my heart to show you what I cannot pour into words, perhaps you would finally fathom everything I would utter only for you.
You have walked right out of my dreams, a muse for perfection, of all I could ever ask for. You read me like a book; every metaphor is etched for you within it, every obscure phrase carries a fragment of my soul. You decipher every unuttered word, every held-back sentiment, even those my shadow dares not be aware of. You read me in a way I have always wanted to be read, in every way I have ever wanted to be understood.
My soul gravitates towards nothing but you, and yours. You make it all sound so simple that it baffles me. How could someone walk into your world one fine day and cause you to believe it is where they always belonged?
Belonged, and I have longed for what even my heart and mind speak too little about. Yet somehow, my soul has whispered to you, and yours has embraced mine with a warmth so soothing I could forget everything, even myself, but remember you.
You and I are not two halves, but two wholes that piece together a puzzle complete. You could very well finish my sentences, yet in all partiality I cannot diminish us to being just partials. We augment and complement each other, together forming what would be a marvel of a symphony.
So, monsieur, be my forever muse, and I shall be yours. In all honesty, you make me feel much more than I can ever put together in words, with a heart so beautifully overwhelmed by your love.
That is what compels me to tell you how I feel, for you do not falter even for a moment in describing how you feel for me.
Oh, to be loved like an ode to love itself; ah, to it being a 'what if' you have cocooned me into an 'absolutely'.
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A playlist stitched from a long drive’s echoes — the songs, the silences, the touch, the glances, and the quiet longing and adoration they carry. Each became a core memory, and so did this list, a time capsule of it all.
The postcards from it are moments and emotions captured through the lens and in lazy scribbles, preserved in their most raw form.
