Sundays are for lovers*

Come lie down next to me,

my fingers drawing circles in the palm of your hand,

your ear against my beating heart,

your lips drawing breath from my lungs.

Curl up against my waist and fit into my curves like the gods have created your body solely for mine. The sun comes in through light curtains, moving up your arm and throwing warmth onto your cheeks. I play with your hair as you’re caught in between your words and sleepy eyes.

The cat stretches and comes prancing to snuggle under your feet. Dancing shadows emanating from tea cups send aroma into our living room, while the soft screeching record turns, swaying melody in the corners of the house.

You sigh deeply and drift off into slumber,

my fingers intertwined with yours,

my mind at peace,

my heart in bliss.

There are moments of idle pleasure that bring back my soul to life: me bringing you serenity on a Sunday morning, you giving me a sanctuary on an Autumn’s day.




In a world where flashing lights take over my mind, you are the voice of reason. You came into my life, with slow and steady caresses, implementing my molecules to a new surrounding. 

I am in anticipation of who you are, of how your whispers feel in my ear… I am in awe, in absolute awe over your smile; it brings my armor down to its childhood serenity. 

You say things like “the weather is lovely today” and all I hear is a melody of the wind drifting on the arch between your neck and shoulder… 

I’ll give you the thoughts in my head and what lies beneath; the breathe pumping in my veins and the echo of my heart… I’ll tell you stories about the monsters in my bed, and how I’d feel empty if they deserted me… And if you stay long enough, I’ll give you my open hand to draw the stained sheets of our love..

Sundays are for lovers

Quiet feet touching under the soft covers as arms come closer and goosebumps dance together on our spines. All senses intertwined dancing on the rays of the sun, shyly creeping through the curtains. I turn to you, hide my face in the bone that holds the curve of your shoulder and the softness of your neck together. And I breathe you all in…


  • mhm…”

Little snapshots of moments dangle with perfection: coffee boiling, you in a white shirt, standing on your toes, spoon in your mouth talking about nothing at all… If I could choose to be stuck in a single loop for all of eternity, it would be this one… you laughing in the kitchen on a Sunday morning.

Electrifying you.

There’s a beautiful comfort in our eyes, the kind that drives me wild inside. It lingers on my heart and floats. There’s a symphony of silence that bewilders me when I rest in your arms, the way you touch my hand, almost as if you don’t even realize it, it makes everything fade away.

There’s an unexplainable restlessness that settles when you’re gone. It feeds off our energy and sips its water from my drenching thirst for you. There’s a balanced sense of fear when I see you, because I don’t know what will be coming next.

There’s a certain kind of ambiguity that lies between us. Questions unanswered willingly for fear of ruining what is. There’s a certain telepathic wittiness that flows when we’re together and we know exactly how all the pieces of this puzzle can fit.

There’s you and I and everyone else. A world that we cradle so gently scared that it would collapse.

There’s you and I. A secret connection that we treasure as is.

There’s us. A distant palpable dream of sorts.

I look at you and I smile. You bring peace to my mind and soul.

Recommended playlist: All about you – Bruno Mars
Mad about you – Hooverphonics
I want you – Savage Garden

Wish I

I want to be Maria Callas. Stand on a wide open empty stage and fill it entirely with my voice so loud and deep that it goes under the audience’s skin and makes them quiver. I want the music that rises from my raw vocal cords to bring the fragile souls some strength and the angry ones on their knees. I want to be an unwavering song.

I wish I could be the Eiffel Tour. A majestic symbol of romance, a witness to so many first kisses all under the same sky. A piece of art timeless and limitless that people in love swear by. A home to the pigeons of les toits de Paris.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful If I were a little girl’s doll. Forever joyful and comforting. I’d fall asleep in her arms every night not worried to be left behind. Knowing that when one day, my little princess would grow out of me, I would be kept a loving secret in her heart until her daughter’s big blue eyes see the world.

Oh, how I wish I were Jane Austen. Creating worlds of innate passion that arouse from words and letters. I’d draw a masterpiece of phrases that would resurrect with each passionate special two. I’d describe a smile to be so enticing, that just reading about it in my pages would make a flow of trembling jolts come over you.

What if I were a little café in Venice. A secret meeting place for lovers on a distant holiday. I’d cradle the last goodbye of the English innocent girl and the Australian scared boy. I’d hold the hands of the elderly, ever so in love, wife and husband that came to celebrate their 63rd anniversary. I’d smile for every new love sprung to life and cry with heartaches.

Sparkling drops, unwavering will…

I dream of a house, so perfectly drawn in my head. A little cabana made purely of glass. When the light comes at sunrise it illuminates the entire wooden floors. And just a little ray of soft light comes into the white curtains waking me up. I imagine myself waking up smiling every single morning stretching right out of bed.

As I get my steaming hot black coffee mug and run my feet on the fluffy soft cotton sky blue rug, I get out on the terrace. It’s vast and breezy. It’s barely six in the morning. You can get chills standing at the sea side breeze.  I sit on the bench cover up in a warm blanket and stare at the sea. It’s not blue. It’s not gray.

Every single morning it has a new feel to it. With time each wave will feel as a birth of a new color.

I can see my kitchen, big and wooden. I can almost reach for the pots hanging from the ceiling above the table-bar.  Every now and then, I’d cook something delightful, with lots of spices and colors. And the drooling smell would rise from the kitchen to the living room and devour the house with delight. I could almost taste it.

And on calm nights when I’d have company, I would make myself a martini from the mini bar while laughter would be searing in the background. I would be happy in those nights, but I wouldn’t feel satisfied, because company is not what I would be looking forward to.

You see after everyone is gone and all light is dim, I’d be sipping on my martini while my beloved would be at the other side of the kitchen bar talking and whispering, filling up the room with quiet melody and beautiful vibes. I can almost get the chills.

Then there are those days, where I’d want to be alone. I’d get my canvas and my paint and go out on the beach with my beautiful golden retriever Sacha. I could spend the entire day just playing with her and painting. Why wouldn’t I? It’s pure bliss!

I cannot imagine a life where I’m stuck in a two by two half a bedroom apartment being suffocated by the city lights and noises. i am in love with it now. But it’s not what I’m looking forward to.

Ever since I could remember, this image of my future has been the same.
I look forward to serenity, calm, happiness and satisfaction. I will make it happen, one way or another, someday I will be in that state of mind, heart and soul. And when I look back, I will feel like I haven’t missed out on anything to get there!