Colors of the Tulip

Only one day without you. 24 hours since the warmth of your hands made my face feel beautiful after your lips departed from mine and your soothing voice told me you would miss me.

Before I lay down I place the pinkish Tulips on my bedroom counter. They remind me of your desire and how you fearlessly pour it out on me. The light green of their leaves and almost transparent pink of their blossoms are fresh and youthful, like the dew-filled countryside reawakening on an early spring morning, when nature is still playful, naive and surprised about the new born colors of the oncoming season. A moment right after creation, so pure and bright and delicate. A time filled with the bliss of hope and anticipation.

Tomorrow morning when I see the Tulips I will be reminded of you and feel the same.

Not even a month has passed since the first Tulip you gave me. You choose my favorite flower, knowing if anything, this would touch my heart. It was an only Tulip, dark purple and meaningful, hinting to the depth in which your feelings are rooted. One single alluring flower as a careful attempt to melt down the frozen guards to the tenderness of my emotions and reveal if I would appreciate your desire for devotion.

I treated it with honor and admiration in the hope its genuine beauty may indeed be a gentle sign of finding just that in your soul. I did not take my eyes off of it and drank its beauty together with the first joys of your emerging affection that came with it.

Till you added a whole bunch of white Tulips to surround it. The blossoms were like a bridal gown, a celebration of the purity of our expectations and a sanctification of the spring in our hearts. Long and elegant, the white Tulips decorated my room, visible wherever I went and slowly I began to feel your continuous presence in my heart.

Their pristine beauty made me believe in my dreams and I wanted them to last forever. My heart would rejoice and my soul be calm, knowing that the promise of love will come true. I could remain happy, could I only believe, rather then having to move on and find out. If the flowers bloomed forever, we would always remain at the genesis and fill our minds with the fantasies of what is to come and live in them without ever being disappointed or without ever failing. Oh, how much delight unfolds at the dawn of romance before it is tried by reality!

Now I gaze at the pink Tulips you brought just before you left for a far destination. They are much like the previous, still. Their color as delicate as the morning light itself, yet a tiny drop of clean blood is mixed in with the white virginity, a pinch of pain is added to the sunrise of our love. It’s the pain of missing each other, the sweet misery of longing which makes the blossoms even more beautiful.

Your absence leaves a hollow inside. How did you fill my heart so soon? I try to bring the sound of your voice into my ears and imagine the smell of your warm skin.

In the morning I will open my eyes and see the Tulips. They remind me of your desire for me and the passion between us. I will look at them slowly opening up and hope they will last till you return.

Lover

This is not a love story; you are not my knight in shiny armor. I was not swept off my feet at first sight, my heart did not stop beating, the butterflies in my stomach remained indifferent. We did not share corny dreams while lying in each others arms, before falling asleep. We never had the urge to share each and every thought with each other and probably the only reason for the pain of good-bye in the morning might be that it could be the last for good.

Yet, I miss your touch and the warmth it would send through my body. I miss feeling it spread slowly into every muscle, causing them to relax and soften, till my whole body would feel comfortable to be in. And from within this comfort I would remember that joy is not something one can gain by fighting, but only feel in times of relaxation. The exertion would stop for a while and I could just be.

Being with you would ease the anguish of struggling through life alone and schlepping the weight of all responsibility on my own. The smell of your skin would make my loneliness bearable and my fears endurable. And even in your absence you would still keep me from crying in the middle of the night. The mere thought of being in your arms and feel the warmth and strength of your body envelope me could take me there. I could drift back into the heat that would embrace me, when your presence fills the emptiness of the night. There is nothing I would need, but your desire for me, pushing out the agony that comes with the cold of lonely nights. Your passion would cover the nagging feeling of hopelessness and your tenderness would soothe the burning anxiety of feeling lost in the ocean of life, which I have not mastered. You would wrap me into a romantic illusion I could flee into, when the hollow night opens up, just by remembering the sound of your breath close to my ear. When your hands would touch my hair and face they would become the world. A world I could enter in my mind that would bring on the gentle sensation of being loved, which again surrounds me to comfort my troubled mind and help me fall asleep.

But the longer you stay away, the more the illusion fades and the harder it becomes to bring the sensation alive. The more nights I spend alone, the more stubbornly my anxieties stay around and fight off the sense of tranquility that my thinking of you might bring on.

Let it not be the last for good. Till I find true love, keep me wrapped inside this sensation, let me at least feel as if. Help me keep alive the place in my mind I can escape to when I am about to lose all hope. Take me there again, so I can keep from trembling when confusion strikes and I need some place to hold on to.