louvremonk

[louvremonk]

Sweet Revelation: The Chapter of Handing Heart.

A page specifically curated for my one and only sweet lover, written personally, may it be tenderly delivered and long reign on one's soul.

Portrait de la jeune fille en feu (2019), dir. Cèline

Sciamma.

One: Of My Past Mingled with The Dear Topic of Future.

I always thought that life is full of clashing misfits, where the dream-like concept of utopia bards love to sing on their sonnets is only to ever be found in tales my mother will tell me at winter nights. The type of snow that sinks cold into bones, the type that kills inside heated homes. Yes, as the violent breeze was blowing windowsills open with no mercy spared, nested under bundles of warm bedcovers, is me with my mug of distilled cocoa clutched tight. I will whisper to myself, “don't be afraid,” and sometimes the fear will depart, sometimes it will linger. Never missed was how, with chivalry of enough wills, I was trying to conquer and get a hold of myself. I think I have always known of woes as any child around my age know and will learn how to ride their bike upon the hills, of trying to keep the ebbs and flows stable so they don't trip over having to come home with their knees bruised and their face sour, I grew up peppered and armored with a heavy compassion belonging to the streets. It is hard to imagine that the variable X and Y of my own favor to ever reside together, of the odds contradicting for they are constantly breathing on the sequence of vast distinctions. Not enough luck, not the right timing, not deserving, not around my capability. One thing I have learned is to always settle less and be content with every each of that extra deficiency, to make peace with my own disappointment from the lack of whats and the more, sometimes too much, of what ifs.

Until there was you, Rafli. You teached me how to breathe, how to take a rest from running lapses and lapses to no end, you connected the X and Y of my strayed variables until it became a dot that turned the mere flicker into a burning fire. And it won't cease, nor will it dim, despite the given hypothetical that the fire faced one hassle: a creek of undammed water trying to extinguish it off. Julia Cortázar once wrote that you could not really pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. I agree with her, because this love is the kind of love you did not expect, but when it is there you can't help but realize that everything you've ever needed is at last delivered to you. Sort of a gift, you did not ask for it, but you own it nicely that it would be rude to ever take it back. Love really transforms us no matter how long and fearful we are when we hold it reckless in our trembling hands. By its verse love is letting me fall like dew drops resting heavily on a pasture, dampening everything. In your embrace I feel safe, understood, like when I shouted at the edge of a steep barren the echoes reach someone down there and they replied, “I am here!”, I know that I am not alone, taking that sigh of relief. The urge to stay alive is flowing in my veins, becoming soulmates with the iron in my blood of red crimson. I am now alive and is no longer only pieces of rotting flesh and cells. To live and to show how I love you, knot in my heart. I love you, hands on my hands, hands on my ribs, mouth on my mouth. I love you, stone in my shoe. I love only you. Only you. Only ever you.

Two: The Idea of Future

I am writing this as I think of you, not that I have always been thinking of you, but I don't want to leave out this detail without emphasizing it. I am thinking of a new world where there are only the two of us. Not quite figuratively, but a lense derived from the fondness that we have for each other, so much that it blurs anything and everything around us. We will have a small house that always smells like freshly baked sweets and breads, creaky wooden blinds just how I like it, at the side of a fresh-water lake, or it could be Seine. Putting your hands in mine as we look into the reflections topped with glistening surface being hit by sunrays; as long as it takes until we turned into little fish and recognize each other again. And we lay down ourselves with our backs ticklish from the piercing blades of grass, hearts pounding with cacophony of outburst, both of our cheeks flushed red and it won't take long for the two phantoms to find each other's lips. You might peel me and my heart as if I was a tangerine, or a taffy candy, as it is meant for sweets to be eaten, you did, your skin touching my skin. The motes of dust won't hinder us, nor the cicadas songs flexing their tymbals, nor the creaking noises of only God-knows-what heard from detritus, for it is really love and desire that turns our eyes blind. Mayhaps thirstiness, I know that I long for you. We are both mad and made for each other.

I want to do so many things with you. I want to share you my favorite breads at the station as we wait for our train ride, aimlessly going towards nowhere yet we've never been this sure. Then we think of the way the phrase 'in love' is pretty, how it sounds like love is a place where you can live in and stay. I am in Love. We are in Love. Love with a capital L, for we've made up our mind and we have decided a destination, not a detour, and our train is now buzzing fast to reach it. We fall asleep as the fleeting thoughts of daydream are making us happy, what making us happier is that even those dreamy fragments are never a far-cry from reality. Metaphoric clock ticked, screaming kettle inside our warm dwelling, I turned the stove off to pour both of us our favorite chamomile tea into the intricate cups carved fancily and imprints of our traces will eventually merge as one.

Three: The Unspoken

You have arrived at the last chapter of this page! Right, after you have put yourself through vessels of emotions this one is for the closure and to put a light end. Or a dot to stop the sentence, for ‘end’ somehow implies the existence of leaving. I won't, though. I wish I have showed enough how happy I am through everything that I have written. I am happy. I am more than *happy* to yet again welcome our one special day, meskipun it is not debatable that each languid day rolling into the next with you will feel just as exciting. Sooo.. Rafli, thank you so much for everything you have done for me ya. For all the good memories, the effort, the laughters, semuanya bener-bener aku cherish seberapa sering pun I tell you about this. For trusting me and for always trying your best, for appreciating me and seeing me in such high regards, for making me feel like I am mattered; even though love and the worthiness of the object is never really what matters. I love being with you, I love falling in love with you, I love spending my time to be around you. I actually like everything about you. I like the way you call me your post anything about me on your channel, like it when you say that you miss me at the time I was away, like the way you are that attentive, like the way how clumsy you can get. I like you when you tell any story about your daily life, like it when you are sad and when you are happy. I like you setiap saat.

Setiap hari I unravel yet another layers about you yang undoubtedly made me fall in love again and again. Bisa ditambahin to the things that I like about you; that I like your hair, I like the way your lips are curving upwards forming a sweet smile, your eyes and its lashes, its color, its marble. Speaking of the bitter, of course there are times when I wasn't so sure of the situation, but you proved yourself of your love each day. That you are here to stay and I can count on you and your words. That I know, seperti the title of this page, I can hand you my raw beating heart knowing best that you will take care of it. A series of wishes are to be spoken in hushes and whispers, one thing that will not change is how I wish for us to stay this way for a long, long time.

A kiss to your heart,

N.

[louvremonk]

— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra — Joseph Lorusso, Playing Their Song —