Tag: romance

  • Tears

    Tears

    Tears hold no value if left to dry on their own.

    It’s the gentle touch that wipes it away

    That fulfils its yearning

    Be gentle with yourself, beloved

    The world mocks the extraordinary

    Because ordinary is safer for meek souls

    (a snip of things to come in my new novel, Taqdeer, A Dance With Destiny)

  • To be loved…truly

    To be loved…truly

    Three things that make us whole…

    To be seen… Beyond the facade. To have the essence of who we are, known to those we trust and hold dear.

    To be heard… Not only when we cry out, but also when we speak gently of the troubles in our heart.

    To be loved… For more than how we make others feel, but to be loved for what we need in return, without having to claim it.

    In that order, because a voice without an identity is not a voice. It’s only a whisper in the wind.

    A face without a voice is only window dressing, or a trophy. And not a complete being.

    And love… Love without a reciprocal embrace…an embrace of what we hold within, as well as what we willingly give, is an empty love that taints towards bitterness, rather than beauty.

    Love beyond lust or infatuation is rare. True love is never abandoned.

    I see you. I hear you. I love you. Three of the most valuable gifts you could ever give. But, you cannot give what you don’t have. For this reason, you must first see, hear, and love who you are, before you will be able to share it with another.

  • Only you

    Only you

    “I’ve been incompatible with anyone else since I met you.”

    Sometimes, without warning, someone enters your life and challenges every assumption you ever made about what’s possible.

    What you thought you deserved was limited to what you were capable of achieving up to that point, and maybe just a quiet desire to acquire some peace beyond it.

    Until they see in you what you thought was your own delusions, and you see in them what you thought were only your dreams.

    Once you connect with that truth, nothing can convince you that anything less is what you must settle for.

    Settling becomes a vulgar thought, and fulfilment becomes incomplete without them.

    When that happens, the distance between love and torture grows, and you find yourself stretched between the two, with only shards of sanity to prevent you from being torn apart.

    Those shards will tear at your dreams and taunt your delusions until their embrace is secured.

    Until then, life becomes a dyslexic dance with insanity, and love remains elusive.


  • Reverse Osmosis

    I’ve witnessed, often, how it is that two people start out being unique characters, but as time passes, they slowly merge into one, just with two bodies. At times this feeds the romantic notions of love where two become one, but at times it symbolises the surrender of one in favour of the other. Neither is bad, as long as it is a willing surrender rather than a surrender of hope.

    The debates about what to look for in a partner will forever remain unfinished, but the one thing that stands true regardless of the approach, is that the adoption by one of the other’s mannerisms or preferences is generally a good indicator as to who is the more dominant personality in the relationship. It also indicates who is more smitten with the other.

    I once heard that the one who loves less is the one who controls the relationship. At first I thought it was true, but I’m not so sure anymore. The depth of love, if measured on superficial expressions of endearment, will never reflect the impact on the wholesomeness of the relationship itself. Overt acts of commitment cannot be used as a yardstick either because it doesn’t divulge the motivation for such acts. But the point is not about being able to measure it, it’s about the net effect on each person involved in the relationship.

    The relationship where both partners are on the same level of emotional maturity, coupled with a similar level of self-esteem is extremely rare. Setting those rare cases aside, I look at the norm and notice a consistent trend. The relationships that last demonstrate a visible level of compromise, while those that don’t are usually considered a failure because of either or both partners being inflexible, or defining a limit of flexibility that they’re not willing to cross. It’s easy to view the inflexible ones as selfish, but that assumes that flexibility is always healthy. It’s not.

    Flexibility, like liberalism, can be unhealthy when you get to a point of compromising your core principles in favour of an ideal that you do not subscribe to. The repercussions of standing up for your principles may be so dire that you choose to begrudgingly compromise instead. As long as that compromise is a grudge compromise, it creates a tension that demands compromises in other areas as well. For example, if I were to compromise on something that I feel strongly about, it would automatically taint my interactions in other areas because my rose-coloured spectacles are suddenly opaque and no longer looking as romantic as they once did. The person at the core of the reason for my compromise suddenly symbolises my struggle rather than my happiness. So it stands to reason that any subsequent interactions that flirt with the core principle that I compromised will be strained or terse to avoid the core issue from blowing out of proportion.

    Reverse osmosis then sets in. Sometimes slowly, sometimes without you even realising it. In this case, the osmosis is the adoption by the stronger character of the traits of the weaker character in order for that crucial balance to be struck. Without that balance, the fidelity of the relationship falls into question. So the one more committed to the longer term outcomes may find themselves compromising more, while the one more smitten will probably see that as a token of love and assume that they’re on the right track to begin with. Such are the delusions of those that lack self-awareness.

    Life is about a set of difficult choices. The more polarised we are in our views relative to those around us, the greater the volume of difficult choices we find ourselves faced with. The less we compromise in our desire to hold on to our individuality, the more isolated we become. Isolation goes against the natural inclination of being human, and it’s in the face of such isolation that we bend and sway towards that that we otherwise would have shunned. That’s when reverse osmosis weakens us, but ironically tends to strengthen the social structure around us. However, a self-defeating social structure gives way to stronger ones. It’s like a cycle that plays out on different scales but with similar principles and outcomes.

    Consider the above within the context of the weaker character adopting the traits of the stronger one instead. Consider the social structures that are spawned from such osmosis and the impact that would have when it comes up against the weaker social structures. In that way we find the slow but decisive erosion of one cultural norm in favour of another. Similarly, the alteration of the culture and value system enshrined in a relationship morphs as we give way to needs in our moments of weakness, when the larger-than-life principles that we once stood for are abandoned to maintain the peace.

    Maintaining the peace has never been the true objective of such abandonment of ideals and principles. I think the true objective is closer to not having the capacity or the inclination to continue the good fight, because the bigger ideals that we thought we were serving for the greater good appear to be futile when the greater good abandons our efforts to serve it.

    [I started out writing this post to articulate my thoughts on how individuals regress in unhealthy relationships, but it seems my train of thought was significantly distracted. Perhaps I’ll attempt such a post at another time. This is therefore another addition to my pile of incomplete thought processes.]

  • The coolness of my eyes
    The garment of my soul
    ‘tis all I need to make me whole

    My lips on her lips
    From whence she sipped
    Will fill the void, between cup and lip

    Beauty reserved
    For the beholder beholden
    Elevates her words, still unspoken

    Bejewelled with modesty
    But never frigid
    ‘tis a treasure, rarely acquired

    My companion eludes me
    My resolve still unshaken
    Never will I rest, until I’m taken

    My Future Wife

    by Cynically Jaded

  • Suicide of a Romantic

    What is it that stops us from affirming others while they’re alive, as opposed to waiting for their demise before singing their praises? Perhaps we’re afraid of being held accountable for our kind thoughts which denies us that ever convenient exit of ‘I knew it’ or ‘I told you so’ or ‘I should’ve known better’? Or maybe we lack the belief in our own virtues and would rather not have people peering so closely that they may see in us what we despise about ourselves?

    Maybe it’s just that we’re so afraid of being hurt, that we’ll do anything to prevent others from getting too close, so that we don’t ever give them a view of how much they mean to us? That would give them far too much power to hurt or manipulate us. So instead, we create our defenses and do it so well that we end up believing that how we present ourselves to others is all we have to offer.

    Heaven forbid we should live a romantic life. It is possible you know. To live a romantic life and still remain functional and practical about all life’s challenges. But it’s easier to fit in with the jaded crowds than to be true to ourselves, because the risk of failure is too great a source for potential embarrassment. POTENTIAL embarrassment. But the reality of the joy that we’ll experience if we lived romantically now will forever escape us because of our fear of embracing what we desire, lest it be stripped away from us in an untimely fashion.

    So we set ourselves up for heartache and failure, all the while pretending to be comforted by our superficial success in worldly endeavours, ensuring that not another living soul will ever see the romantic fool in us for fear of being mocked or ridiculed for that which is closest to our hearts. So fear drives us to suppress the romance, and embellish the facade so that it becomes the reality of our existence, when in fact it’s the reality of our deception. Sad, isn’t it?

  • I’m tired of having the whole bed to myself. I want to be able to say, “this is my side of the bed”, and reach over to feel the flesh of one that I love on her side of the bed. I want to experience the flutter caused by her tender kiss against my cheek, or a subtle brush of her hand against mine, mostly sub-consciously just her needing to reassure herself that I’m still there…without realising that I need the reassurance more than she does. 

    I want to be able to walk into the room and sneak up on her from behind, so that when she realises that I’m there, without a word, or a need to look at me, she leans gently into me, dips her head to the side and exposes the tender glow of her neck waiting impatiently for the caress of my lips. The feel of her silky hair against my face, with the lingering scent of her shampoo laced with the delicate scent of her natural oils. 

    Subtle hints of her perfume bearing out the final moments of a day well spent, leaving her with a unique scent that can only be hers…a primal beauty that mesmerises me. I want to see the warmth in her eyes that disguises the uncertainty of life but still musters enough passion and depth to leave me enchanted. I want to feel the arch of her back when my arms wrap around her, while her feet dance instinctively in the air when I lift her off the ground. 

    I want to feel the tension in her shoulders dissolve just by running my fingertips over them, tracing her beauty down her arms and nestling her hands in mine, interlocking my fingers with hers, feeling the hint of a hesitant squeeze as she allows herself to indulge in the moment without ever submitting completely. But that hint of surrender is all I need, never total surrender, because then, she would be needy, and she would cease to be intriguing.

    The passion she has kindled in her chest for so long will never allow her to surrender completely. It is that same passion that has unseated my sanity.

  • Suicide of a Romantic

    What is it that stops us from affirming others while they’re alive, as opposed to waiting for their demise before singing their praises? Perhaps we’re afraid of being held accountable for our kind thoughts which denies us that ever convenient exit of ‘I knew it’ or ‘I told you so’ or ‘I should’ve known better’? Or maybe we lack the belief in our own virtues and would rather not have people peering so closely that they may see in us what we despise about ourselves?

    Maybe it’s just that we’re so afraid of being hurt, that we’ll do anything to prevent others from getting too close, so that we don’t ever give them a view of how much they mean to us? That would give them far too much power to hurt or manipulate us. So instead, we create our defenses and do it so well that we end up believing that how we present ourselves to others is all we have to offer.

    Heaven forbid we should live a romantic life. It is possible you know. To live a romantic life and still remain functional and practical about all life’s challenges. But it’s easier to fit in with the jaded crowds than to be true to ourselves, because the risk of failure is too great a source for potential embarrassment. POTENTIAL embarrassment. But the reality of the joy that we’ll experience if we lived romantically now will forever escape us because of our fear of embracing what we desire, lest it be stripped away from us in an untimely fashion.

    So we set ourselves up for heartache and failure, all the while pretending to be comforted by our superficial success in worldly endeavours, ensuring that not another living soul will ever see the romantic fool in us for fear of being mocked or ridiculed for that which is closest to our hearts. So fear drives us to suppress the romance, and embellish the facade so that it becomes the reality of our existence, when in fact it’s the reality of our deception. Sad, isn’t it?