Spring evenings with pink fluffy clouds in the ever blue horizon perfumed with the sweetness of spring exuded by the delicacy of exotic flowers, this is the likeness of what Love should be. Effervescent with warmth with its glory at peak in physicality.

This is what Love is imagined to be.

A Love doomed to fail is one where the beloved is convinced their existence is an immense misunderstanding. And no greater dilemma is there than the reality of it all marred by ego.

Days folding neatly into weeks that eventually coalesce to months...

Did you miss me?
Did you think of me, seeing the gaping space between us, stretching ever tediously by miles of land and sea between us?
Did you miss the lack of it, where only the mere fabric of our clothes kept our warmth apart from one another?
Does it bother you, not being able to reach out and touch my warmth, being left with grasping yearningly onto thin air when overcome by nostalgia?
Do you take reverie trips when having my garments in your hands, smell my familiar scent to let loose the waves of emotions drown you?
Do you feel the emptiness around you haunt you menacingly and the cold of isolation, despite the warm sunrays bathing your room and kissing your skin?
Do you feel exasperated when hearing me but unable to touch me, feel me and just have me entirely?

I know you do, as do I.

The unpredictability of today and even more so of tomorrow makes the anxious more desperate for reunion, the many torn between inability to come together rave for some sliver of silver lining to get caught even accidentally by their convoluted fate.

Don’t worry, darling. The wait will be over. Soon. Until then, remember me and remember me often as I remember you so fiercely so I can come to you in your dreams, if not in reality, yet.

Fiery sparks blossom into magnificent blooms in the night sky as the New Year’s first hour dawns on the restless night crawlers, the colors that gave way to the booms of crackling noise reminiscent of the tumultuous beat of each heart.

Far from the mayhem, far from the cluster gathered to catch the joy effused in the air

Betraying the incessant gloom we were made to call our own yet bade it farewell with a sanguine heart hoping to enter and live the new days to come with the semblance of normalcy taken for granted but now long sought for.

Uncertain and bleak however it may have been, disparage and misery barely hidden by masks, one of the few many fortunate found something most unexpected in such times of strife.

Love.

A rose bud of the past now bloomed wondrously, the luscious depth of color in the darkest of red faithfully flaunts the trueness of its existence. One might wonder at the stubbornness of this bud despite being rejected or abused had persisted against the odds and blooms vibrantly. Be it winter or summer, it held onto itself truer as ever. Much like a heroic bloom had this Love come to fruition, and yet so far from being seized entirely.

Oceans apart, yet never a day passed to make the heart throb any less for the other. Hopeful for that day when touch may eliminate any need for words, conveying the warmth and desperation a longing heart suffers from indefinitely. Hopeful to walk hand in hand through the newness to come.

Here is a toast to the new year to enfold in the favour of love and fortune, here is a toast for the ones who have lost much to unite with a newness to fill that emptiness. Here is a toast to all the survivors of an uncertain time... A Happy New Year to You.