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3 mins

As I try to pen this piece down,

I imagine myself as a quintessential man from the 1700s,

Sitting on his desk, with nothing but a quill, a head full of dreams, and the will,

To compose a serenade for the woman he truly adores.

Why the 17th century, you ask?

Well, I endeavored NOT to quote Shakespeare's Hamlet,

Or tell you that "You are my world!",

Or talk about how your inner radiance glows brighter than the moon,

Or anything that would make this sound like every second romantic song on this planet.

But try as hard as I may,

I realized that romanticism is nothing but a cliché!

I love cliché!


But they are honest, poetic,

And often try to convince you that even though that chap over there goes bonkers whenever he hears your name,

He is still worthy of your love.

Let's start with your beauty.

I could talk about your eyes, and how I keep getting lost in them

Or your hair, and how I wish I had more of that in my head.

Or how about I just compare your face to a flower that dances under the sun?

Well, I would just be kidding myself.

Because when I do look into those eyes;

I FIND myself

Rather, the other half of myself

Whose voice was suppressed by my own inner demons,

A voice telling me-

To break free

From the shackles of self- doubt

To replace that grimace

With a smile on the face

And to treat yourself like the person you love.

If I really wanted to compare you with a flower,

I'd fancy you like the one which did not grow inside a garden,

But on the road adjoining to that garden,

The stems of resilience

Cracking through the concrete and gravel of everything that's unfortunate

Covering beneath it, the soil of hope

Little did it know that the seed wasn't going to give up.

"What do you like about me?" Ah! Another cliched question.

Well, you're smart, funny, basically,

All the boxes in the list of an 'ideal partner' have been ticked.

But that's not why we clicked.

It's all about the little things.

Maybe it's because,

We didn't call each other during our free- time, but we freed our time to call.

Maybe it's about being around when life takes a fall.

Maybe it's about confiding in all our fears,

Maybe it's about making me smile through my tears.

Maybe it's your sass, making me drool

Maybe it's just your selfless soul

Maybe it's your walk

Maybe it's your pep talk

Maybe you're the boss

Maybe it's their loss

Maybe it's this unexplained spark.

"I love you 3000," says Tony Stark.

Maybe it's because you're amazing at what you do.

Or maybe.... maybe it's YOU.

Life is ironic.

You claim to be teetotaler, yet you lift my spirits.

You haven't seen the Avengers, but in just a 'snap', you make half of my worries disappear.

You don't have a license, yet you 'drive' me crazy in love.

You're short, yet so high on life...or rather...' Medium' on life.

You love applying make-up, although you look just the same without it.

Now, I would be overcompensating if I said that "You're perfect!"

Because let's face it...sometimes you suck.

But then again, don't we all?

Love is all about finding that one-person worth suffering for.

And you know what? I've been trying too hard.

Let's just embrace the cliché and all the cheesy lines that come with it.


You pick the pieces up again.

You're like a song that never ends.

You're a breath of fresh air.

You're the answer to my prayers.

You are what dreams are made of.

You are what nostalgia tastes like.

You don't cross my mind because you're always in my mind.

You've opened my eyes and shown me that love isn't always blind.

The vibes you give out are nowadays hard to find because

You're breath-taking.

Too cliched? I don't care.

I'm not falling in love, because you've always shown me how to rise.

So here I am, standing before you

With all my flaws, my mistakes, my imperfections.

Unabashed. And raw.

Now is when I take an arrow to the knee

And say "I love you. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?"

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