Month: January 2018

At night, I crawl into bed tired. I’ve had a long and tiring day; my eyes are closing, my limbs are sore. Somewhere deep within, my heart is aching from the insensitive remarks that others have made; careless words like weightless pieces of paper tossed into thin air, leaving behind paper cuts everywhere.

I watch you stare intently at your computer screen, your brows slightly furrow and you gaze fixedly at small, inconspicuous black words on the screen; you blink, and then you yawn, and then you turn around and smile at me. I love the way you smile, like the rainbow after thundery showers, like fresh laundry after a sweaty game, like 11am coffee on a carefree Friday morning.

I shut my iPad down after the last few pages of readings. Sometimes, I think ancient writers are too verbose. I just read a sixteen page document which I could easily have summarised into two, with language much too archaic, vocabulary much too formal for today’s casual context. I climb into bed, and a few moments later I feel the warmth of your skin against mine, your fingers tracing circles on the nape of my neck. I turn around to face you, and the next moment my eyes gaze into yours and I am completely lost in them; I close my eyes and you close yours, and then our lips meet. And they intertwine, over and over again.

Time flies, and unknowingly we both drift off to sleep. Falling asleep is like succumbing to an itching temptation; initially you protest, but suddenly you give in, and you give in all at once that when I wake up at 3am, I wonder how I ever fell asleep in the first place. I turn around and watch you sleep. Your eyes don’t close completely, but your brows are relaxed peacefully. Your chest gently rises up and down, and then suddenly your lips twitch. I trace my fingers across them, feeling the softness of your skin, the warmth of your breath. You stir, and then your eyes open midway as you battle with the drowsiness of sleep. You ask me what time it is; there’s still plenty of time left to sleep.

In the morning, I leave the room alone because I have a morning class, while you are still lying in bed. I kiss your forehead before I go. The rays of sunlight shine on you when I open the door; radiance, just like how you are radiance in my life. And then, I gently close the door behind me, catching the last glimpse of you before we are separated by a thick sheet of wood.

Then I turn away, and leave.

But I know that I’ll be coming back to you tonight again, soon.

I’m starting to think that one day I will run out of words to write.

One day, I will have already said everything that I wanted to say to you. There are only so many words I know, so many combinations of phrases. The letters will start to look more and more like the same, until it feels like loving you is routine.

One day, I will have already known every inch of your skin. There are only so many parts of you I can love, so many different ways I can love you physically. My kisses will start to feel more and more like the same, until it feels like loving you is routine.

One day, I will have known you like I know myself; you, vice versa. Newness will fade like a wisp into thin air, and we will question how many more “firsts” we can do. There will come a time whereby I will wonder to myself, “When is the last time we have done something for the first time?” Hopefully, perhaps by then my bucket list will already have been fully checked. Hopefully, we will by then have settled down into blissful stability, that we may look back on the ferocious waves of doubt and uncertainty we now experience and congratulate ourselves for braving through all the storms, that in the end all of our worries proved to be unnecessary.

Yet, may this routine be the most blissful one. This routine, my shelter, my saviour, my solace. This routine, where the greatest happiness and wildest adventures are shared. This routine, where the unhappy days turn for the better. This routine, until death does us apart.

Routine is not necessarily equivalent to boredom. Days like this, I cling on to the hopes that healthy routines are necessary. That I will embrace the same you that I have loved, and continue to love, through it all, the same spirit, the same soul.

In the end, may I love you to the end just like the first time I have loved you; all day, every day. That this warmth stays the same, like it always has been.

但愿如此。