The Fine Art of Loving You

To Syed Saleh,

I looked at you when you weren't looking and here is what I saw. Sunlight slanted over you. The most beautiful thing about you, I think, are your hands. The veins in your hands, in your fingers and in your arms stand out persistently, flexing with each movement you make. I trace the blue-green map and think of how they look older than they are, of where those hands have been, the finesse and magic they possess when they cook and the fire they bring to my whole body whenever they touch me. And I think of how they've ended up here, clasped in mine, pressed to my lips, threading through my hair.

I looked at you when you weren't looking and here is what I saw. Your eyes are focused and sharp in their perception, but when you look at me, they soften with love, with laughter, with tenderness. You see so much, even when I am opaque to the world. You see the sobs lodged in my gullet and you will cradle me until my tears are spent. It worries me sometimes though, that you see me with too much faith, in my infallibility, and also in my imperfections.

I looked at you when you weren't looking and here is what I saw. The man who kisses my nose and bears with my childish, mock-tantrums with admirable patience. Who hears me whine and complain and make ridiculously blood-thirsty requests, and yet insists in believing in my goodness. Who sees the strength in me and the weaknesses and loves both. Who will tell me the truth, in all its glorious ugliness, and yet retain the ability to make me smile.

I don't know what will happen to us. I am far too realistic to fully believe that we will survive the next so many months or years, to fully believe that we will, indeed, persist in loving each other and be happy together, but I do know one thing for sure. That when I look at you, I realized that I am in love with a man of integrity, of character, of a pure heart. I am grateful to know you, to have you by my side, and my gratitude runs deeper than you would think.

So we may not be able to be sure about tomorrow, but I can promise you, that today I am entirely yours, my love. Neruda once said "I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride, so I love you because I know no other way." I think of you and I smile.

With all my heart,
Fyy