From neckties, bouquets, candles, and crisp champagne linens

From neckties, bouquets, candles, and crisp champagne linens. As far as I know, there’s not a single person who ever failed in identifying these things and relating them to this one special day where two people brought together by faith, by chance, or by choice officially becomes each others better half for the rest of the time breath dictates may it be in front of an altar, inside a mosque, by the bible or under a tree for that matter…

As most fairytales suggest, a prince strolling the woods soon finds true love almost immediately after their eyes meet with his princess, or some pair of glass slippers suddenly brings everything to “ they lived happily ever after” or a torrid kiss with the princess and the frog strikes fireworks to the sleeping sky…

In reality, there are no castles to climb, or fire breathing dragons to brave, no petals of curse or some magical mirror that speaks. The frog may not even turn into something even better looking; let’s say a prince after a kiss, two kisses, or three. Glass slippers do not fit all the time, or there maybe no slippers, nor glass to fit at all..

What is there instead of brick walls, beasts, talking teapots and fairy godmothers?…

I’d say, unsent letters of doubting hearts, eyes that stare at the ceiling for hours, feet that travel shorelines, and emptied feelings waiting to be cradled and filled once more…

Unarguably, there are more chances of heartbreak than love in this earth.. And that, finding that soul whom you’re supposed to end with is nothing short of a miracle..

Somewhere around the globe, there’s this one person who writes ,yet is not written back, someone who dreams, but not dreamt about, someone who saves you every time, yet you never have saved even once… someone who loves, yet never loved back… someone waiting , unknowingly left alone…

If you’re one them, I guess what you feel is painful, for lack of a better word, if you’re not, then I guess you’re in bliss, to say the least.

Love is not when things are picturesque, scenic, of dramatic fashion and what have you,.. Because, it never was, never is and never will it be, for if it will, it is everything the world is but love then…

Sometimes, because of how idealistic we are of love, we end up not noticing that, what is there right before your “imaginative, idealistic, creative, and blind” eyes is actually love in its finest seconds, in most chances than not.

It is not that love only exists in the movies, but fairytales…,
It need not to be an elaborate dinner in gold-rimmed dine ware and cutlery; it is the rustic bench with the plaid linen under the summer sun.

It is not professed in the funkiest accent and rooted from the most sophisticated literature, because after all, what ever culture you are from, you will agree that it is always at its best when “shown” rather than “said”…

It is not the fresh bunch of blooms, but the wilted ones in your closet…,

it is not the night when you wear the priciest trousers or the dress quilted in cashmere, but the night you simply dressed but eagerly awaited to happen..

It is not the high end steak cuts in the restaurant, but the sandwich nobody understands but you..

It is not the fancy limo ride along the well lit avenues of urban streets, simply, it is the thought that you could take that ride together..

Apparently, love is not when things appear to be beautiful.. Love is when things feel beautiful, regardless if it shows or not…

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