I love you like … I love the rain.
Image source: Pixabay, under Creative Commons License
I get a whiff of you from afar, knowing you hold those clouds in your hand and shall wring them out like the rain. And yet even before you unfold the tiny drops of joy, I hold out my hand, so you can take it in your own. I do it because I wouldn’t be any of the fools who admired you from the other side of their window panes or simply held out their hands to let you slip by. I do it because I would be the fool who lets you pour into me; to fill me like drops of heavenly love; to embrace me like God’s own poetry read in pattering rhythm and to claim me like the melody that can finally make sense of the chaos in my soul. I love you so, because no matter whether you fall down soft in a drizzle or come battering down like a hail of bullets, it is me you want to drench, and just me you want to kill. And I would gladly wait where I am for your downpour to thrum down like dancing feet, so I can watch you play and kick my shoes off to dance madly in you, with you…forever.
Suggested read: You and I … in this beautiful world
I love you like … I love reading.
Image source: Shutterstock
I seek you out from the crowded bookshelves of my heart, my fingertips tracing the spine of every cover to find the only pulse that keeps pace with my heartbeat. As I find you, I can feel my gaze fix itself upon your being, like a lover undressing his beloved with the passion in his eyes. And in that one sinful moment, the world outside is devoured by the flames of my longing. Overcome by your musty scent, I throw open your cover in an urgent yet tender stroke, and touch your inked heartbeats, as if merging your life with mine. I trace the words writ upon your flesh, understanding the story of every moment you have lived. I run my fingers along the ellipses in your soul to fill the blanks you haven’t had the strength to complete. I turn your pages, reading and re-reading every passage carefully, so I can know you inside out. While we make love thus, I watch your wounds from long past begin to fester in never-returned-to bookmarks, your fears rise among color-coded, dog-eared wonderlands within you once loved and deserted. I can feel the pain ooze from the coffee specks in the margin, from when you were left across a kitchen-counter for ‘something important.’ I can feel the moving power of the line where your pain-induced tear drops left a splatter of mascara stains on your pages. I kiss it all- embracing the notes scribbled in another hand in your margins and the inscriptions on the front cover, by those who held you once. I pull it all close, as I lock you in my hug, returning to an earlier page when I can feel your need to reminisce and reading slowly as we get closer to the smaller side of the pages because you fear being closed and put back up on the shelf again. I hold you still, assuring you that I would never put you down, for I have found you after an eternity and loved you as you are. If I’ve read you, cover to cover, it simply means I am that much closer to making the spaces in your being, the breath between your words my own.
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I love you like … I love art.
Image source: Google, copyright-free image under Creative Commons License
I trace my fingertips over your textured edges and feel the chunks of paint in my palms. I move my fingers across the smooth surfaces as easy as the rough edges- so no part of you remains unknown to me. I put my lips to the canvas so I can taste your instincts dripped down from the brush into the work. I breathe in your colors to know if the blues caused you to be sullen and whether the reds made you angry or passionate. My eyes soak in all the patterns of you, your lines, your curves, your shapes and the way they billow, bend, twist and turn. I run my hands over the ridges of your carefully crafted being, the way your body swirls and coalesces to read into the stories the colors paint, to watch the things that escaped all other eyes, to feel your message reach out into me. I will take a step back or two, to behold you from near as well as far. To see if the story changes from a distance, if your voice is clearer at another angle, to know if the light paints a different tale by taking or adding shadows and once, I have loved you in all ways, I will paint my way into you.
Because I love you… like I love YOU. And there’s nobody else I’d love like I love YOU.
Featured image source: Pixabay, under Creative Commons License
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