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.