“But I’m not perfect and I’ll never be,” breaking the long silence, finally her words came through.
I readjusted my jacket sitting on the right corner of our favorite bench in the garden.
Winter evenings are beautiful and when with her, they become beyond perfect.
“Yes I perfectly know this. I’ve seen you dressed in pyjamas and that scar on your chin which you kinda hate the most. I’ve seen the fear you have for your growing weight and I’ve been these stretch marks on your forehead.” I came closer towards her on the bench. Metal was being colder with the sunset but unlike it, her mind was getting vigorously thoughtful. I wondered why we always had to have these serious talks in front of the reddish sun. When actually, I could stare at the most beautiful creation while those soothing rays of the sun would just make the moment and her beauty desirable.
“So, why are you reminding me of them?”, she sighed. This time her eyes were appearing to be amazed and her palms were finding mine to grab them tightly.
“You always tell me that you find them beautiful and are in love with them and everything. But tell me just once, how would I believe this? I mean who adores someone’s scars and falls in love with someone’s imperfections. Do you fake it? Do you lie to me? Do you hide the truth that I’m not beautiful? Do you tell everything for the sake of telling? Do you…” She added and her voice was getting shakier, breaths were getting heavier and the body restless. I could clearly see the moisture which had started to wrap her eyeballs and was being desperate to get off, any second!
This time I didn’t want tears, I didn’t want to make her cry whist I tell her things. Things, which were real and true. Unlike other sunsets, I wanted this one to be just a happy one, with no sobs and sniffs.
And then, there was a thing I felt utmost important that moment – wrapping her into my arms and resting her head on my chest until she gets completely normal. Without losing a second, I took her into my embrace and caressed her back with one hand while my another palm was slowly thumping her face over my chest to get her breaths back to normal.
Whilst she remained there, calm and still, I tried to figure out the answers of the questions she threw at me. I knew that I knew the answers and the also knew that I won’t ever be able to make her understand what she yearns to know. But I also knew the fact that answered questions lead her to a different level of restlessness, which bothered me, obviously. So I decided to perfectly frame my answers and at least try to persuade their meaning to her.
“You know what, you’re not perfect and I know this. I’m not perfect and I know this too. But together we turn out to be something which is beyond perfection – beauty.
I’ve seen these stretch marks and the scars you possess and I’ve seen them from a bit too close. They never distracted me. They never made me feel less for you. They actually provoked me to know more of you and read you. And I do fear, what if someone else falls in love with them; but darling, you know no one will ever be able to appreciate and accept them as beautifully as I do.” This made her smile and she snuggled up to me a “little” more close.
“You remember these lines from a letter I handed over to you, “Take your bruised soul and collect all you scars. Darling come dance with me in the parallel universe.”
You know the reason I wanted you to take your wounds, scars and bruises along with you rather than dropping them away –because they are a part of you. You consist of them. They sometimes make you what you are to me. When I tell you to have accepted you completely, why would I abandon from accepting what integrates you.
I don’t want any layer of make-up hiding the real you. I love you the way you are.
I don’t find any need of cosmetics to make you look beautiful because sometimes it’s not about looking beautiful but being beautiful.”
I knew I was lacking words but I had to make her understand that it was not her skin that attracted me but the way she handled me when things went wrong. It was never anything in her body which sensitized me but the way she looked at me which made me skip a beat everytime she did that.
I cupped her face into my palms and looked straight into her eyes, this time a little deeper and explained her what I found into them, sheer love!
Love was what actually made her, not the flesh and bones.
Continuing our sunset trend, she had made my shirt all wet and her own cheeks salty and was radiating a smile like the sun shining through the clouds after rain. And I was watching her crying and smiling and staring at me. I didn’t want to make her cry this time, because I forgot for a moment that she looked beautiful with these joyful salty tears.
No matter what she wears, no matter what she does, she looks beautiful everytime because she “is” beautiful.
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