Love Is Fluent
Doesn't matter what language--
--you can speak without moving your tongue.
Any country, any nationality,
There are no borders when it comes to love.
You can see a million faces,
It only takes the right one.
A smile here, a random coffee date there,
No need to translate.
When it's real, it's universal,
We are all fluent in the language of love.
what is love in the end
after it splits
and turns a bit
what is love in the end
or even when it begins
how does it twist
what is love in the end
i sometimes forget
because it it gets blown aways in the wind
that is Love in the end.
Love in Braille
I fell in love last Tuesday
But with my lips I couldn't say
So I told you with my fingers and hoped you heard my voice within
I traced it very lightly
On your neck then down your body
I heard you say it back with the bumps upon your skin
Blue eyes. Oceans so deep, you could feel the waves crashing on you. And that laugh, so long and so sweet you would stop and listen. The face, so innocent so sweet, you'd be blind to miss it. That love, so pure and so deep your heart would burst of you felt it. Those lips that kissed you goodbye. Those hands that never wanted to say bye. The kindness in the soul, those arms that never wanted to let go.... undescribable.
“I think I fell in love with you when called me an asshole. Crazy, right? And I very well could be an asshole, depending on who you ask. Anyway, everyone always said you were the sweetest person. You got along with everyone. You helped our classmates out without ever appearing annoyed. Somehow we ended up sitting close by. There were few people I talked to and you were the one I wanted to talk to the most. You were so cute! You fidgeted with pens all the time and your smile was always small and slightly crooked. You hunched over your desk laughing when something was extremely funny. You didn’t do that too often, but you did it around me the most. ‘I’m special’, I thought. I was 100% delusional, I know but, could you blame me? I liked you so much and I didn't even know it! One day, I said something, something you didn’t like. I made your shoulders tense and your eyes hardened to a deep chestnut from its usual soft caramel. “You’re an asshole,” you said and turned your body away from me. I remember my jaw dropping in shock and my heartbeat building in intensity in time with my breaths. I was scared yet enlightened at the same time. ‘I’m special’, I knew. Because you cared about what I said more than other people. You showed a side to me that none of our classmates had seen. I was special and the need to keep that place in your life outweighed any overdue assignments I had. Priorities, am I right?
We didn’t talk for the rest of the day or a few days after that. I knew what that empty feeling in my chest was. You were missing. We still sat near each other, what were we supposed to do? Change our unassigned assigned seats? Head spinning and ears ringing, I gave you a note crumpled and damp from the unyielding grip I had on it. I remember it very clearly. It wrote: ‘I’m so sorry for what I said. I crossed a line and made an awful ‘joke’ about something I really had no business speaking about. I’m sorry that I upset you. I just want you to know that I truly am sorry.’ It’s not really a great apology, but I was 17–I hadn’t apologized for much at that time and I didn’t really know what “accountability” was. But by some miracle you read the note and started talking to me again and you never stopped talking to me. And since then I’ve never stopped loving you.”
I met you in a garden/Love’s end:
I met you in a garden, as Spring’s heavy breaths warmed the weather, and my mother’s flowers bloomed vividly. We didn’t say a word. You didn’t even look at me. But when, my dear…friend, has that ever stopped me from surrendering all that is myself to an unwitting stranger, who came here for the cake. You lingered in my candle-lit room, on the pages of notebooks, ink, wherever I could hide you in plain sight. It’s shameless, really. You minded your own business, you did nothing wrong. But here I am, writing about you. I’m afraid you’ll never find peace, and neither will I. Every writer knows that to put pen to page is to resign oneself to the world of glimmering fantasy; a world devoid of consequences. I met you in a garden, and we never met again. But Spring’s hardly passed, so who knows? The end.
If I were to describe our love story and time shared, I would say it was like Friday. It was fun, exciting, passionate, and extremely full of emotions. One day we are on cloud nine, and some days we are fighting like animals. Being with you was intoxicating. Your presence was so hard to let go of, invigorating that I craved it when we were apart. You were someone I always looked forward to spending my time with. You were my safe space. We had fun, we had our silent and comfortable days while lying down in bed, and we had our misunderstandings that tested the limits of our emotional and mental capacity. But just like any Friday, when you’re enjoying life, getting drunk, dancing to the beat, laughing out loud without a care, a day full of exhilarating moments has come to an end. And when it did, it hurt. It hurt like hell knowing those crazy Fridays would never happen again. Our adventure has ended, and just like having withdrawals, it made me go wild, crying, gasping for air, and battling emotions I don’t want to feel. But I know, deep within, letting go of you would lead me to better days. I know our end would create a hole inside me while slowly building me up again. You are the kind of love I will always long for, crave, remember, and cherish. You are my Friday, my bliss, my adventure. It is tragic that our time has ceased when I thought our time would be never-ending. But I hope we both have better days. I hope you and I get to meet our Sunday love. The kind of love giving us warmth, stability, comfort, and safety.
Words can be explicit,
There's no deficit in true love,
When you touch my skin,
My mind is saying,
" I wish he could baby it up"
He's the only man I'd let get that close,
Red roses and white envelopes,
No texts or video calls,
If its not in real life then not at all,
I want something spiritual,
No games or other people involved,
Just kisses under starlight nights,
Painting by the beach as the sun rises,
Our hands intertwine,
I yearn for everyone to know that he is mine,
And as for I, he knows I am his,
So, next time he kisses me, touches me, and blesses my body,
Put a mark on it, let me be full with a product of our love,
lt will be XXX rated
But, I'm sick of waiting.
note; wrote this as a fanfic request but I think it can be enjoyed regardless of not knowing the fandom
He pulled her towards him. A frown rested on his forehead as he observed the steely steady spark in her eyes that refused to be intimated. She was refusing to blink, holding in the stare. He eyes fell towards her lips, which were firmly pressed closed.
“You can’t stay angry at me forever.” He said
She didn’t reply back.
“I’ve apologized three different times. What more am I suppose to do?!” His arm snaked around her waist, the other one slipped behind her hair, holding her form hostage. “I am your husband. I am not going to let anyone talk to you like that nor am I am going to tolerate you humoring someone like that!”
She refused to budge until he slowly started to lean in. Her lips parted, feeling his breath on her nose but eyes refused to look away.
The frown on his face did not soften as he leaned in closer, finally capturing her lips into his. It was perhaps the first time, he brushed off any semblance of tenderness from his kiss. There was thirst, hunger, possessiveness, lust, and desire mingled as he sucked on to her lips.
To his surprise she was reciprocating the kiss with just as much fervor, mimicking every move of his. His lips pulled her lips more deeply, and he felt something sweet. He pulled away to breathe to see her faint sign of blood from her bottom lip but before he could feel the absurdity of the situation sink in, and fully realize that he had hurt her, her eyes looked at him challenging him.
His brows cocked and he once again dipped his head to pull her lips into his. His tongue licked her lips before slowly thrusting itself against hers, pushing her tongue to entangle itself with hers. His grip on her hair tightened, crashing her petite frame against his body, entangling his fingers into her hair further.
Her fingers, on his chest tightened their clench on his shirt and he almost felt the sharpness of her nails. He pulled away from her, his eyes darkened as he picked her off the ground into his arms and almost threw her onto the hotel bed of the suite they were staying in for the weekend. He pulled off the dupatta from her neck and threw it behind them. She started to sit up to unzip her top but he was quicker than her in pushing her shoulders down to unzip the shirt himself. His fingers fumbled for a second unzipping and pulling the kurta up to her bosoms, while his face buried itself in her neck, biting her earlobe and the spot behind her ear. An inexplicable moan escaped her lips, provoking him to suck on her neck, almost inciting him to leave a mark on her to remind everyone that she was if anyone’s, it was him.
He pushed the kurta off her, and pulled her churidar down, leaving it hanging off her ankles which she pushed away by wiggling her legs the moment he took her hands into his, pushing them above their head.
He looked into her eyes. The steeliness in her eyes was replaced with the desire mirrored in his eyes. He could see her mouth threatening to replace the lust clinging onto her lips into a smile. He shook his head in a no. Her eyes widened, and her body trembled under his. He observed the goosebumps rising and slowly leaned in to kiss her lips, slowly pulling them into his mouth. His grip on her tightened as he slowly pulled himself down to suckle on her breast, teasing her nipples before sucking them hard enough that he had used his teeth. She gasped, moaned, her body asking for more as he withdrew.
She freed her hands, starting to unbutton his belt. He unbuttoned his shirt and trousers, still pulling her into rough kisses. It took mere second for him to push her below him, teasing her to want more of him. His lips slowly traced down her body, sucking onto her soft, supple skin leaving slight markings of his kisses. Her hips adjusted themselves under her feeling his masculinity graze against her thighs. He felt a smirk warming up to his face realizing that she was sopping wet before he could go down on her. He teased her inner thighs by slowly grating his masculinity against her skin.
She felt the temptation to rip off his hair rise in her, at him continuing to tease her. In between her heavy breaths and silent moans she didn’t see his hands letting her arms go to only flip her on her back before inserting himself in her. She was on her knees, her back arched and a clump of her hair was once again tangled in his fingers. His other fingers teased her clit, rubbing it in circles while thrusting with almost a little too much intensity than she had been used to. Her moan was louder than usual and she felt her body trembling far earlier than she was used to. Another gasp escaped her at him pulling her up towards himself, relieving soft moans that echoed in her ears.
He let her hair go, his hand cupping her breasts just as he felt himself coming to completion. She trembled, feeling her legs completely give up as she neared a climax she hadn’t ever felt hit her as it did. He pulled himself out, and let her fall on the bed, her face burying itself on the pillow.
He moved up, his body half lying on her back as he placed soft kisses on her back. He felt her trying to hold on to her breathing. He tried his fingers along her arms, gently helping her turn to face him.
Her leg draped over one of his legs, and he circled his arms around her to pull her closer to his body. Her hair fell over her face, and she closed her eyes breathing in the warmth radiating from his body. His fingers gently brushed away the strands on her face, tucking them behind her ear. He leaned to place a kiss on her forehead.
She finally met his eyes again. Her arms slowly found its way to wrap itself around him. She buried her face in his chest, smiling at the events occurring in the last hour, and then remembering the one conversation between her and one of his colleagues that led the jealousy rise to the extent that she hadn’t witnessed before. She had known that he was once jealous of the attention she received from his cousin, but she hadn’t grappled that the trust he was boastful of developing for her would be so easily threatened the moment he heard her nod along to the flirtatious sentences the man at the party in the earlier half of the evening threw at her.
He gently pat the back of her head as the aggressiveness of his love sank in for him. He was comforted with the thought of her reciprocating his demanding demeanor.
“Hmm?” her face was still buried in his chest
“Don’t do that again.”
She pulled away and looked at him, her head lying on his arm, with a twinkle in her eyes, “Do what?”
“Don't humor those clearly flirting with you, not in front of me!” He replied admonished
She continued looking at him with the twinkle in her eyes before smiling and voicing a faint ‘okay’ and going back to clinging onto him. He continued to gently slide his hand over her head. The remainder of the night led them to fall into a peaceful slumber with sweet nothings drowning between the two.
A Psychopath’s Love.
Her eyes teared in the sunlight. Blood was all over her arms, her shoulders. Her body tensed up when she held his cold, lifeless hand. She slowly closed his bloodshot blue eyes, watching them sparkle one last time.
She stared at him, and started to caress with her right hand. For 15 minutes straight. She noticed his reddish-brown hair, along with his tender yet strong hands. She laid down with him, gazing at the bright orange sky, as police officers gathered at the scene. They ran to where the blood drained, and just took in what had just happened. A knife located in her left hand, the police dragged her away and handcuffed her tightly. "A lover's quarrel," the responding officers murmured.
She had just met him, and this was the man she'd just killed.