emotional eloquence | february


I’ve always been a sucker for love letters. For someone who writes a lot I sure do suffer from a certain a lack of emotional eloquence, so I’ve grown very appreciative of those who have it. It is because of this that I can never grow tired of reading about love, whether it’s poetry, romance or letters.

Some of those letters always get the best of me, no matter how many times I read them. So, I thought I’d share my favorite three here. One day, I’ll write a proper love letter too. Until then, I’ll let them these speak for me.

Gustave Flaubert to George Sand

Flaubert’s words are soft, they do not describe an invasive affection. Way too often, when words are eager, love burns quickly, however he describes the type of admiration that will last for a lifetime. This is the reason why I like this one so much, the carefree uncertainty, the casual details, the honesty. To me, if feels like it is about friendship, the type of friendship you can’t live without.

How we keep these dead souls in our hearts. Each one of us carries within himself his necropolis.’

‘I don’t know what sort of feeling I have for you, but I have a particular tenderness for you (…)’

‘I especially missed you last night at ten o’clock.’

‘To ‘love you more’ is hard for me – but I embrace you tenderly’

Ludwig van Beethoven to his ‘Immortal Beloved’

Beethoven’s various letters to his muse are some of the most beautifully written words I have ever read. He writes them in an almost painful passion, the ‘Immortal Beloved’ is loved ardently. The true pain relays on the fact that these three letters were, apparently, left unsent.

Love demands everything and is quite right.’

‘Brighten up – remain my true and only treasure, my all, as I to you. The rest the gods must send, what must be for us and shall.’

‘It is not a real building of heaven, our Love – but as firm, too, as the citadel of heaven.’

‘I can only live, either altogether with you or not at all.’

‘Your love made me the happiest and unhappiest at the same time.’

‘Be calm – love me – to-day – yesterday.’

‘Oh, go on loving me – never doubt the faith-fullest heart.’

‘Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.’

Alex Turner to Alexa Chung

Not all love letters have to be literary acclaimed pieces from past centuries. Some are modern tales and could fit into a text. It’s an updateded fairytale. Legend has it Alex Turner wrote this one on a napkin that Alexa Chung forgot at a bar. It is short, sweet and heartfelt. It is the love letter one can aspire to receive in today’s world.




Warm, soft, sweet.

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Faith couldn’t have picked you better.
I am obsessed with
how my head fits
in the crook of your neck,
how my nose brushes on your skin,
and how soft it feels agains my lips.
‘What are we?’ you ask,
‘Do we have to be anything yet?’
I speak, in fear that you might say
‘Yes, we do’,
because all I want to think about
is the softness of your skin,
and the comfort of your embrace,
and the sweetness of your words,
We don’t have to be
more than that
just yet.
but you nod your head,
we don’t have to be something,
not for now.

And how unused I am,
to this tenderness,
I might just fall,
after all.

Soft | february

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Fingers tracing your tender skin,
the touch tickles inside out.
There’s no shame in being soft.
Lips brushing shyly in yours,
a little peck can cause no damage.
There’s no harm in being soft.
When the time arrives,
You’ll say the words that wound me,
and love me to bruises.
Until then,
Will you be unforgivingly soft
in my arms?

blooming? | february

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Here’s the truth. 

Some people bloom when they open up, they’ll radiate light. As you get to know them they’ll become more and more pleasant. You will feel lighter just from being in their presence. They will surprise you everyday, with little quirks, selfless acts and overall warmness. 

I’m not like that. I kept wishing I was a blooming flower, but it seems I can only be a grey rainy day. I don’t open up to be a light sunny sunday morning. I’m fairly good at bringing some mild autumn weather to the table on an everyday basis, I’ll keep you at a distance so that you can catch these sun beams once in a while, but over all it’s always a bit on the colder side. If you get closer – and I’ll apologize now if that happens – things get a bit different. I don’t develop to become a sunny day or a full grown flower. There aren’t a lot of pretty things to see here. I try to be pretty to look at, from afar, because when you get close, you’ll see where beauty starts to crack.

I’m terrified that people won’t like what they see when they see me. I’m very reserved, seeing me is a difficult task, I can only hope to be worthy of the trouble. And I really did dare to believe that I was a blooming flower, that taking the time to know me would be somewhat rewarding. Turns out, I gave myself a lot more credit than I should have. I can only hope no one else comes to this realization, soon enough to leave me, before I get a chance to learn how to bloom.


come with me my love to the sea of love | february


We fell in love at the shore.

If the sea was the life ahead we were sitting in the sand, feet dipped in cold water, eyes set on the resting sun. The beach was our playground, the shore the stage where we would play our love. We were staying at the edge of forever with no intention of diving into the rest of our lives. Nevertheless, we stayed for the twilight. We watched the light fade into the water, slowly, patiently. The day was dying in the arms of the sea, yet all felt at ease.

There are many words I could have said then, before the last sun beams touched us, still I chose silence, my best feature. The golden hour suited him well and I wouldn’t dare to ruin it. He was laying in the sand, without a care in the world, picture perfect. I couldn’t bother to let him know how my heart was aching with every passing minute, how the indisputable briefness of our affair was slowly drowning me. I couldn’t fight it, instead I laid still, by his side.

We had been doomed from the sunrise, there was no denying, still we stayed for sunset. That’s a memory worth saving and a love story on it’s own.