ZARA M.

Dear Heart,  Extra Honey As July goes down, maple mornings melt into horizons. Writing to you on the last evening of highsummer, my inside grows warmer for you, while the outer goes cool, knowing my words might always  be flying in the air.  It has been months since thoughts kept scattering on paper. I lean towards relief, but apprehensions grow. There is always a sudden urge to ink details to you, creating an uneasy environment inside the core of where you reside in me.   The moments I spent where caramel kept drizzling over me, hours of sunrise with honey on toast, warm, long nectar evenings, and cookies of you are all I am moving forward with in August.  Until the bees keep making honey, Bye. ~Zara M.

I have made a home where you exist, a place where I keep you within, everything else aside,  just us,  by each other's side. Whispering featherlight words,  taking delight in playful annoyance,  all resting at the edge of our wonderful desires. Free from the worldly chaos,  pleasures in our daily cosmos, stars smiling and blessing the two us, that happiness like this never settles into dust. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  I know you wait for me to write to you; here I am again. Let me tell you today that your absence has found a way into my days; they have become immersed in you. My pages wait impatiently, wondering when will I write to you again. This is the moment I feel like having a real conversation, telling you how the hours have felt unfamiliar without you.  Words fall short whenever I am to write about a face made of quiet sunshine; when your prettiest smile widens, it awakens flower buds, and the colors it scatters all around are hard to capture in words.  I consider you the equal of a sunflower, beautiful in your own way, carrying sunshine in your pocket. I can find thousands of ways to tell you that my seasons have learned your name, my dawns rise with thoughts of you, every character in my book resembles you, and my whole world leans towards you alone.   Until the sky writes again, ~Zara M.

Love does not necessarily require sharing the quiet of the kitchen growing old over cups of tea and going over the grocery list. Time is not the same for everyone, and neither is destiny.  Seasons change, stories change,  feelings stay; the purest are often the most unfortunate. I believe the world carries an urge  to see every story through the same lens  Few stories are enveloped in silence  undeclared, yet gentle and passionate love   other than a mediocre story where love finds its home in togetherness.  Yet, they remain no less beautiful; perhaps even purer, for they continue to exist without asking life for more than the privilege of being felt. ~Zara M.

Writing in July demands patience, summer nights, tiredness of long days, and solitude. As each passing day adds more to the days in which your presence was dearly desired, I watch the sun rise again from its weariness.  Though several suns have set without you, each has risen anew, carrying hopes alongside.  Solitude usually holds a propensity for certain thoughts; for me, you are one of them. I find myself engulfed either by your memories or by your warmth. I admire every passing hour, where beautiful memories become both a part of life and the reason they continue to spiral, visionary yet soothing.  This July, solitude has experienced both the absence and the presence of someone who matters to one universe as a flower to a garden, or a leaf to autumn, small in appearance, yet precious to a tender heart.  Till the seasons keep changing,   ~Zara M.

I could tell you of my dearest visions,  the nights I woke to fears the things that always burdened my heart,  the fragile uncertainties that lingered in the dark. In you, I see what comforts me;  my soul finds companionship; my heart, torn by the quiet fears of losing essences, finds its way safely into your embraces. ...And tonight, I feel the urge to tell you about the shadows I encounter, the places and the hearts I have to let go to shelter, the soul unsettled and the eclipse I dread,  need to be spoken before I am dead.  ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  My Cozy Cup Witnessing the sun rise and go down, all my mind is enveloped by thoughts of you. Holding a cup of coffee, my favorite literature, and thoughts of you, I cannot imagine a life more beautiful than this trio. My dawn and dusks have imprinted your name upon mine, not in a way that restrict you, but in one that frees you. I write you, but even more, I like you to read the abstract and interpret on your own. The lens I wear sees pink in you and finds your reflection in nature, the cosmos, and even in desserts.  Every evening, as the sun sets, my coffee grows cold, and the fudge calls my name, and I get lost in literature; my heart grows restless for you. And every sunrise, my dawns remember you as I take my first cup of  morning tea before leaving home. You are there in the folding of my evenings and the opening of my days. I feel both the warm and coolness of you.  Carrying you throughout the day, Under July's light,   ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  All the world on one side, and you on the other. My hate for the company on one side, and my love for your presence on the other.  If every time you made me happy, I picked a flower, my drawing room would forever be filled with bouquets. My feelings for you have long surpassed the measure of flowers; they now bloom where seasons cannot reach. With each sunrise, I experience more aliveness in me as every dawn adds one more day in our togetherness in the same world. Looking for more dawns with you,  With love,  ~Zara M.

If you ever decide to choose otherwise, Choose what knows your worth.  Surrender to the little joys of life.  Embrace petals that reshape your gentleness into something celestial. If you must depart,  Do it gently. Like the sea approaching slowly to drown someone unaware of their death.  Your departure will wound me within,  Yet, it would be gentler than the wounds of your remaining without belonging. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Solace Today the sky remembers your name. As the rain pours on the earth, each drop speaks your name, carries your silence, and leaves the atmosphere serene.  Rain has never touched my heart but as the time lapses, seclusion has learnt my name, and I have leaned more towards nature, where falling drops from the sky mirror the very nature within me, winged hearts welcome the sky's tears and surrender themselves without resistance, much like I have surrendered to the quiet chapters of my own life. They are but reflections of the stories I have lived. Standing behind the window, watching downpour descend from the heavens, holding a cup of black coffee while staring into the day, seeing your image in every falling drop, carrying you in my heart and your thoughts in my mind, writing to you, I know of nothing that could unburden me more than this.   Until my next, ~Zara M.

.....After all this time, under the midnight skies, velvet nights, and rose-coloured evenings, we learned to admire each other. Our admiration deepened with our cozy conversations, silent gazes, and the soul connection. I do not see a moment where comfort ever dismissed us.   I believe every moment we are creating memories, and the same happened between us. Under dusky heavens, our stars kept aligning, and the Milky Way crafted cosmic rivers that kept favouring our destinies.   As the moments pass by, tonight, standing in solitude under nights woven with stars, which were once love-soaked nights, I recall how joyous our moments were. Sharing the sky alone today makes me feel as though I am drowning, with nobody to save me from the ocean that has risen to take me.     ~Zara M.

We touched each other without touching. only gazed at one another, without a single stir.   It happens in life, where the communion of souls  and spiritual nearness overtake lingering presence. No longer does the language of proximity matter; what remains sacred is the silent admiration  and the gravity within the eyes.  When unspoken words take the shape of language,  sunrises linger within the eyes,  and the silent understanding awakens, they leave behind unforgettable memories.    Our silences found their voices before words had taken space;  an exchange of silent dialogues,  entire conversations carried through the eyes. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Gentle Soul Happy to write to you again. More playfully, let me say: My Dear Cupcake,  You are well aware that writing to you is my favorite hobby, and addressing you as C upcake does not necessarily mean I am hungry; it refers to the cuteness you embody and the fondness I have for you.  Your face is as juicy and chocolatey as the fudge. Your voice is as sweet as caramel but a salted one; of course, talking to you gives me the same butterflies I get whenever I see deep cocoa hues.  The moment I see you, or even imagine a conversation with you, I become my most playful self, full of childlike wonder; toying with you brings me the most untamed joy.     I cherish these little moments I spend unfolding my heart to you. Peace arises as my words come to rest with you. Though they may never reach you, I like to believe that one day they will.  Written in sunlight instead of moonlight. Till the next letter, Bye. ~Zara M.

This summer, the months remained heavier than the heavy, warmer than the warm, and longer than the long.  I have witnessed long winter nights with dark skies, lunar light, and my solitude. But the summers then were lighter than the light with heaven's expanse, sunset's palette, and cosmic rivers; all that burdens my soul now. Time seems to be longer and darker, with each renewal of hope, I rebuild myself before I am torn once more.  Though the summer guests bloom as before and orchestrate the mornings, they no longer favour me. The solitude once confined to winter nights has taken over my summers. I started to believe that inner seasons are liable to create our outer seasons. ~Zara M.

When the world goes odd and fruits go sour,  Carry a cup of coffee and a well-loved book to make a moment of ours. The wide, dark night filled with stars  Shall remind you of all we gave from our hearts.  The moonlight spilling silver all across the path  Shall awaken an echo that resonates with your scars. Do not become heavy due to the gravity of memory.  But try cherishing what we once considered reverie. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  As the night falls silent, It recalls me all: a face that blooms when it smiles, cheeks that cradle quiet sunshine, and hair that engulfs dark twilight. Watching your image come and go, tender crossings of our souls, infinite conversations that lead to perpetual peace, and yet, the dreams that never return to release. I write to you, in hours of despair, joy, solace, and  grief. Every time I am done writing to you, it is either anxiousness or tranquility, and these days, it is infinite unease that remains.  The depths of night take me further into the world where your impression resides; experiencing it at every unfolding brings disquiet to my soul.  Night leans in your favour, makes my silences choose you and draws my inner world to your presence alone. Yours, in every lifetime, ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  These days I write ceaselessly, with obsession, almost to the point of smothering the page. My words streaming from my heart, flowing endlessly; I am overwhelmed with emotions, and steeped in devotion. I am unknown what this condition is: calling it abiding tenderness for you or madness, I am unable to decide.  At the moment, writing is my escape, my refuge, where I let my heart turn into ink and find consolation. It has kept me alive through this period of crisis: mental or emotional, It no longer matters to me.   Until the next letter, ~Zara M.

I am no ordinary soul you will adore. I bring intoxication, madness, and quiet delirium.  I shall be the place where your name never fades. My soul shall continue its pilgrimage towards you. Still, it shall ask nothing of you.  I shall write to you out of obsession, Several pages at once, to the edge of reason, Yet, I shall never stand between you and your freedom. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  I have not admired anyone to the extent that tears fall, tenderness peaks, and radiance blooms. May this never be unknown to you; I recognize you as the one, the only one with whom I can speak of my daily rituals, golden hours, amber dawns and violet dusks, the shades of clouds, twilight hues, sunflowers, slow afternoons of summer, and the falling leaves.  I find no other who can bear my unburdening soul or the spilling of my heart over things that seem insignificant to the world but are of colossal significance to me. I can tell no one how flowerets talk to me, smile at me, and fill my silences with their tenderness. This has remained beyond your knowing: the sacredness I find in your companionship, the solace your aura brings me, and the quiet belonging I have always found with you. With quiet devotion, ~Zara M.

Memory is the time that stays,  It sees us as we grieve in our own states,  The memory of your passing is still fresh,  How you left me crying behind your flesh.  You did not stay to see how it would affect the life I live afresh.  I was the one most loved by you; Now there is none to see me through. Reflections of a lifetime spent beside you Have all reduced to echoes after you.  A love like yours, purer and softer,  Is nowhere to be found since you. You drifted away, choosing the easiest, Leaving me to the company of only tears, Rolling down my cheeks every night since May 27 Deepening my silences to the core edge it was never,  If there is a way back to ever... (I wish.) Your favorite granddaughter is grieving since ever. I look each night to the skies, Hoping you are watching over me from the heavens. Forever your granddaughter, ~Zara M.

 Dear Heart,  If I could spend my time only as I wished and desired, I would spend it in writing alone, writing to you about the shades and rhythms of you...about the skies, the birds, and the colours of nature. I would write to you about the phases of the moon, the daily sunrises, and the rosy silence of twilight. I would speak of the seasons, the weather, and the flowers that remind me of your gentleness; of the rain, whose droplets fall upon my cheeks and soothe me with the feeling of your presence; and of the winds that so often tease me with your delightful name... I would write to you endlessly, simply to tell how dearly I hold you and to let my heart breathe through words.  ~Zara M.

 The sky bleeding rose and gold, where quiet stories unfold. The moon spilling honey and hues, while the heavens loosened their blues. The clouds showering a rain of starlight, as nature breathed in light. The evening pouring feathers of twilight, as horizons go silent... As though every sunset still belonged to you, Yet, every shade becomes another shade of you. ~Zara M.

 Dear Heart, I write to you hastily, in panic, overflowing with words, intense feelings, and trembling hands. I write what burns inside me, as the boundaries of this world restrict me from unveiling the ache that lives within; I prefer to breathe my words into the page. I am very much aware that these pieces will remain with me far longer than I imagine, unfolding only within my own solitude. Yet a quiet sting of hope never leaves my side; someday, somewhere in life, they may still find their way to you. Perhaps the pages will grow yellow and brittle and crumble at every touch as they surrender to time. It is also very much the possibility that the scattered thoughts I entrusted to these papers will one day fade into obscurity. Yet even then, they will still bear your address, preserving the deepest feelings and strongest emotions I once carried for you. Always, ~Zara M.

 I realize I have felt the golden, crisp autumn of October; the light, cool breezes of November; and the love of December during the summers of May to July. You poured into me all the blonde sunrises and the rose-lilac sunsets. That petal-soft heart of yours awakened a velveteen bloom inside the tender soul of mine. My already fragile heart could not resist the honeyed verses and tender traces you etched upon my delicate being. I, with a brittle individuality, let every fragment of me soften beneath your quiet nearness; I almost surrendered to the realization that the July within me was intensely stirred by the fullness of your presence. ~Zara M.

...And since I house your echoes, carry the horizons of us within me, long for your presence with unbearable intensity, write about you obsessively, and imagine you infinitely, almost to the point of craziness, I desire you to be here with me, sharing the earth beneath the soaking sunlight and endless blue skies.  I cannot bear the shadow of your presence; my heart has never learnt to live on echoes alone. It is worthy of a home, and it has never recognized one except yours. ~Zara  

Dear Heart,  I have that sudden urge to write you everything, everything so little yet so deserving of being shared with you. It is the intimacy of sharing the smallest details that has always undone me. The language of my heart is so incomprehensible that I struggle to weave it into lines, as though every feeling exceeds the reach of words. As I tell you, I am full of letters that I never found the courage to send you.  They remain folded within me, waiting for a season brave enough to let them find you. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart, Every breath carries the memory of your nearness. Every dream keeps returning me to you. Every thought lingers on a dawn that never truly departed. Every page I write carries the echoes my soul never forgot. Every season within me waits for you endlessly. Ever yours, ~Zara M.

 My every sunset folds into another dawn, and each dawn carries the possibility of you. I linger for your return, for the evening's quiet embrace, for the inner sunrise you awaken within me, and for our time to be together. My world pauses where you departed. Here I lie, inking the infinite obsession I carry inside me until every page gets heavy with what my eyes could never hold. I write to the extent that the lines overflow with words and the paper surrenders to the quiet rain of my soul. I am convinced that peace will arise, though not from letting the unspoken find ink but from endlessly imagining you to the point where my soul mingles with yours until your presence surrounds me completely. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Somewhere beyond the far edge of this endless night, there I am, living unbridled thoughts of you: the sunshines and the storms, the tenderness and the trials, the embraces and the farewells, and the nearness and the distance. In between it all, I find solace in nurturing a thought that it is us against the world. Though imaginary, it exists. Though absent, it is present. Though a night unfolds us in different tides, it still comforts me to know that we share the same night beneath the same sky. Though we stand at different corners of the world, we continue to exist in each other's memories, apart but never entirely separate. ~Zara M.

 Dear Heart,  My silences have always stifled my emotions. I have always restrained what my heart has felt; my hesitant heart has made me loosen the grip over several of my desires. On this day, when I encounter numerous layers of thoughts where our souls drift toward separate tides, I recall how joyous I have felt with you and how strongly I have remained gripped to your soul all along. A voice that questions its own echo seldom dares to become a confession. It leaves its deepest concerns in silence, and stillness, believe me, has a way of distorting everything. ~Zara M.

You have sparked within me a love for prose, a lens of rose-tinted glasses through which to view the world, and the vocabulary of nature. Without you, I would not have moved an inch and would have clung quietly to an ordinary era of living. You have crafted me in a way: I have learned to let petals become my language, blossoms become my thoughts, and the whispers of nature become the voice of my heart. ~Zara M.

The shadow of farewell has turned every joy with you into pain. The shared moments of boundless joy are trailed by the mere thought of your absence. Your spirit unstitches my existence and holds sway over every fiber of my being. Your presence, so deeply woven into my identity, is resisting every inch of thought that parts us. The flowing days have already witnessed refusal, the eclipse of presence, the descent of darkness, and ultimately the dread of love becoming a memory. Unsettling my core has remained your favorite pastime, as though you find a quiet delight in watching me settle for nothing but the lingering essence of you. ~Zara M.

You bring forth the finest poetic prose writer in me, writing about my daily imaginary conversations with you or with God about you, yet I hate writing about you like this. I wish for nothing but your quiet presence before my eyes while I slowly unfold every secret and heart's desire I carry in silence. I dream of the day when I will behold your very being and tell you every single thing I have borne in my heart for you.  ~Zara M.

I carry countless conversations to God about you; I tell Him how sweetly you have adorned every thread of my being even when your soul was far from mine. I take my silence to the Divine and let him discern the joy you once put in my soul, though my eyes speak but my lips falter. My eyes translate what my lips cannot, reaching the deepest chamber of my soul, where tears surrender without resistance. He, the knower of my every unspoken truth, my secret keeper, is aware of the deep affection my heart bears for you. I am intoxicated by your name; merely speaking it overwhelms me. Every midnight, my spirit turns to the Eternal, eyes awash with emotions, prayer on lips struggling to become words, and holding onto the hope that a single KUN from Him may reshape the destiny my heart longs for. Every moment of despair deepens my dependence on hope, for I see it the only mean by which my soul survives. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Not everyday is Sunday, and not every day are things aligned. Things scatter all at once; today I feel my pieces dispersing across the continents.  Not every day the sun shines brightly; it dims at times. Today I sense my world growing poorly lit.  My heart hangs low today; several things at once, and no one to carry the burden with me or assist me in relieving myself of this pain that I have packed inside me.     With moments, I have shaped myself in a way that assistance no longer remains my requirement; nature has been on my side, listening and supporting every time there is a need. My autumn never needed a landscaper to cultivate spring there. But tonight.... it feels heavy. The moon refuses to spill silver upon me, the stars engaged elsewhere; I walk beside solitude, and words return to me alone.  With a heavy heart,  ~Zara M.

Lone morning strolls beneath the trees, with birds singing and the leaves whispering; the solace of greenery; and at the back of my mind, there was you. Recalling every bit of what we shared, our endless laughter, love-filled gazes, and unspoken emotions. The moments that made us whole, filled my life with joy, and gave even the quietest hours a reason to breathe.  ~ Zara M.

Dear Heart, As your autumn falls, you remain my evergreen. Even in your dusk, you are my dawn. In your eclipse, you are still my sun. I have admired your every shade; even in your blue, you remain my rose pink. With tenderness, ~Zara M.

No vocabulary has learned the shape of the feeling your smallest tenderness awakens within my very being. Moments unfolding almost unexpectedly, honeyed words, and your velvet-like emotions mend every unseen fracture within me. Those moments gather every scattered piece of me and returns it to where it has always belonged. You stir my soul with feelings it has never experienced before. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart, Sweet Indulgence Writing is where my soul belongs, and the essence of you is where it belongs, too. A blend of both makes me incessantly and obsessively insane.  Sending words to you has taken the shape of a golden ritual, where my denial holds no significance before the universe. Abstract world has overtaken me and I am buried beneath, while the soul sits in heaven. I sincerely wish you sometime write to me about your days, but I am swallowed by your silence. It rests with my knowing that my wishes are not fishes, and I do not swim in riches but being a human, I am melting into cocoa. All aside, always elated arriving at you through words.  May all your tomorrows carry a significant amount of honey on your toast. Until my next, Bye.       ~Zara M.

I will fail to remember. I will cut adrift. I will tear apart a piece of you within me. But I will still dream. I will create fantasies of you and me,  together, sitting side by side,  holding unto each other's souls, Our eyes speaking  while words failing to align,  listening to each other's heartbeats, and adoring every moment of us together, every midnight, in my dreams.  Zara M.

I recall one July in particular; things were tender and unhurried, the air was warm, and the sun witnessed you looking at me as though I were something ethereal. There was a time when July stood sacred in my life, with its solace-filled aura and hearts full of warmth; today, when I stand in July, the past has been folded into memory, and new chapters are quietly unfolding. The amber-spilling sky, on an evening in July. ~Zara M. 

Dear Heart, Honeycomb  I keep expecting you every day; my days grow slow when you are not around, when I do not get to see the sunflower beneath the human skin.  My warmth, my maple, my honey, without you, my days are quiet like a bunny, funny and unstable.  I carry you like a gentle season of my heart, where I keep blooming from the inside out. You have remained an unwritten poem in my heart that I have begun to pour onto paper.  You have become my sweet indulgence; people become intoxicated by wine, I by your sweetness.  Till the next hot chocolate, Bye. ~Zara M.

 Dear Heart, Some things are hard to speak of and no easier to write about. Feelings, especially, are like carrying rain through a desert; they ask to be held, yet they resist being put into words. It makes little difference how good a writer one may be. When it comes to laying one's heart bare before another, words suddenly lose their certainty. No matter how often I have tried, I have always found it hard to give voice to the unspoken truth my heart carries. I have never been good at speaking, nor have I ever managed to write it exactly as I feel it. With all my silence, ~Zara M.

 I lift my eyelids, and there is nothing but you. I close my eyes, and all that remains is you. As the moments pass, the whole of me becomes your silent fragment, adorned completely in your essence. I am no longer myself; my breath wears your name, until I am none but something entwined with your sacred depths. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  While halfway through the collection of Buddhist sayings, Dhammapada , I came across a verse that says  clinging to desires is the root cause of suffering, and letting go liberates us.  It makes me realise that attaining freedom demands neither resistance nor attachment, but acceptance.  As time gently passes by, my hopes of witnessing words from you are folding into dusk, and I no longer resist your irreversible departure.   Reading another verse that says the mind holds immense power in shaping our reality  forces me to cling to hope that things might yet turn around. But in case they do not, I have made peace with it; it has become a part of me.  Until another dawn of thought, ~Zara M.

 I am the most elated being under the moonlight. I touch the reflections that are perpetually absent but unceasing in nature. The images, ingrained inside the depths of my heart, consumed my brain and made me relentlessly yours. Your presence is threaded to my existence; despite resistance, I am swallowed by it. ~Zara M.