I've always wondered what the touch of real love felt like. If it was as warm as a blanket surrounding you, or the warmth of a hand in mine. The kind of love that makes your heart melt with the sense of home and ease when your partner is near you. That energy so pure and so sweet that you feel like it's a dream. I often stare at lovers on the train as they laugh and share light hearted kisses on the cheek. At the park as a they walk with their hands together, or pick out beautiful flowers from the bushes.
I find myself longing and staring in curiosity and perhaps with a hint of emptiness and jealousy, as I know I'll never experience a love like that. Of course I've had lovers before, I'm not terrified of love, no. However, it wasn't love. More like, attraction, or a state of company over misery, and in every relationship there was that emptiness lingering in my mind. No matter how hard I tried to push it away it never left me in peace.
After a while I convinced myself that maybe I'm not equipped to experience that type of love. Maybe I'm just here to be a placeholder of someone else's aching heart. To drown out the void in my soul I dedicated my life to writing poems, and creating music. It helps for a bit until I've become tried of dedicating long hours of work. On my spare time I hang out with my friends and catch up with them once life has settled down.
Now I'm heading to one of my dearest friends and her condo in Manhattan, with the loud pop music blaring through my ears on the metro. There's an old lady sitting across from me and she smiles softly at me, I smile back, and then I wonder what I'd be like when I'm older and fragile. Next to me is a business man on the phone with a thick Indian accent repeating his words hoping that the receiver understands him. It's crowded on the train, it's a Saturday afternoon and many people have many places to be. I laid my eyes on the prettiest boy I've ever seen.
He was tall and lean, he had his earbuds in and softly nodded his head up and down to the rhythm of his music. His hair was curly and dark, and his eyes were brown like mine. His skin was smooth and dark, and it glistened in the iridescent light of the train. I don't know how long I've been staring but it must've been long enough for him to notice me. When his eyes met mine he smiled kindly, but I adverted my eyes back to my hands that lay on my lap, feeling embarrassed for being caught staring at a complete stranger. Gosh, I'm so weird, I really need to stop staring.
"Now arriving at Greenwich Village." I jumped up eager to get off the train, standing in front of the doors I take a look back again to see the boy I previously stared at. He's drawing in something like an art journal. As the doors open the smell of fall leaves and a mix of sewer hits me and I'm off to Marie's condo. And If I ever get to experience the warmth of real love, I'd never let go it go...
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Love, Sana
