Prose Poem
When you touched me, there were no surges of electricity, no bouts of tingling sensations; I could have easily mistaken it for my own embrace. We were undeniably one.
It would indeed be an understatement to call you a missing piece in my puzzle. From my reawakened perspective, you were the perplexing puzzle itself. The entire picture is all but incomplete. However, as we put the pieces together -- hands interlinked -- it becomes clearer who you are to me.
Just as the most renowned pieces of art in this overtly scrutinizing world are often abstract, our enduring, almost natural instinct to choose each other in times of crisis and ecstacy can be moulded into an emblematic sculpture. So let me assure you: It's not my vision that is blurred, it is the vague existence you were when you first embarked into my solace life. As the waves of time passed, the ambiguity turned into familiarity and a stranger turned into family.
Unlike the extravaganza unfolding on the screens and pages of times begone, we are not anything romanticized like each other's halves. Pardon our modesty for we are the bricks and stones of our home. The unspoken moments echo the loudest within my memory. The unseen sights visualise most vividly in the recesses of my mind. The unheard poetry weaves itself in every nook and corner of my skin and bones. There is no exaggeration in our declaration of love, for it is simplistic in its portrayal.
The first time you touched me, I didn't ascend to heaven. The wonders of a heavenly embrace, well, everyone seems to have felt it in some mere infatuated romance. What one may not even come close to comprehend is the wonder of an earthly embrace. Down-to-earth can never be casually encountered up above in the clouds. The authentic empathy coalesced with the genuine sincerity finds itself in the arms of a grounded entity. What you gave me was more than a saviour's hand, you infused life into my half-dead attempts of hanging on. The first touch was impeccably and indescribably yours
