Photo by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash

Oh, to write and to be written ❤

A writer’s love language.

Spending years of existence observing people and the little things, every single one served an inspiration to write more. I could go on, like movies, books , series-- call all art forms for they inspired and unlocked a piece of me I wouldn't have found otherwise.

Unsaid words and thoughts from the moments I've been through found themselves a space between the lines I wrote. It's like hiding little candies in a bouquet of flowers. Or even pouring out all the angst and rage that stemmed from fictional or real life experiences. You don't quite notice them in a hindsight, but to those who do can never unsee them again. That's the power every writer has, let alone any style.

The pen is our mighty sword, honey, and the paper is its armour.

Poetry makes one live in the trance of metaphors, appreciating one's life and tragedies.

Sweetly served in a bitter plate.

One could cover them with love with every word placed, like a flower arrangement.

Raindrops settled like a pebble on your hand.

And my hand settled in the warmth of it.

Prose lets one write anything in detail, with precision, flourishing with beautiful words here and there describing a city, a scenario or a feeling one has been through.

The city was cold to me, letting my skin freeze the moment I wanted to say something. The noise of vehicles honking sent a muffled tone through the wind. I’ll enjoy my hot chocolate for now, I thought while looking at the snow carpet road through my window. This view thrilled me, maybe the coffins underneath would be safe now….

Something like this.

At times, writers break the rules by writing confessions that flows like a poetry and prose. All of this is for one reason: to be seen and loved. We spend hours trying to write the perfect letter on your birthday like the times you spend on presents for me. Our presents are wrapped in these words, and in no way we could ever amount all the feelings into a sheet of paper or two. But that’s how we are, darling.

We put our gift in envelopes, for you to remember that the ink flows like a river with your presence in our life. No cap.

When we start noticing, we delve much deeper that every turn we take reminds us of you. All the little things that make you, you. How the sun leaves kisses on your skin while you sleep by the window, the way you subtly hold the power in a room…. We notice everything in admirable way (obviously). These very moments makes our life little better, as we wind ourselves in daydreaming and imagination. This would happen even without anyone in person. That’s our power. And our isolating factor.

See, as we spent our lives like a camera or a Polaroid, to be fancy, we crave for someone to see the same way we do. To love and to be loved. In the writers voice, it’s to write and to be written. While we write and symbolise everything, another soul doing the same thing but in different font and style for a fellow writer hits different. Finally the observer becomes the observed. How the other notices us when we look away, when we laugh… Their perspective is noticing. Noticing all that we hide beneath, even behind the words we preach. And they see us who we truly are and beautifully craft it in their messy journal. Or leave notes on the counter when they leave home. Or in those little wordy snippets they share that reminded them of us when walking across a street.

Little things go a long way.

We will let the world paint the picture while we adorn it with words only we could ever understand. To others, it might seem like a rambling, but we don’t have to care about that, for the coffee will never get cold.

We will never have a reason to explain this to anyone.

Oh, to be reciprocated with this kind of love.

That’s our love language we deeply crave for.

Dedicated to all fellow writers and artists who wish to be a muse in someone else’s life. Isn’t that a beautiful way to be loved, without a filter, and to be just seen as you are? Hope this type of love reaches your soul in this finite lifetime :)