Letters To Juliet

By Sarah Khan

“Friar Lawrence says, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.” I claimed intervening my fingers over the desk. 

“I wonder professor how else could Romeo be sure he loved Rosaline one day and then sure he loved Juliet the next?” Averill out spoke his thoughts in his raspy gorgeous voice. He knew what he was asking. Nonchalant as he is. 

“I pray thee chide not, she whom i love now. Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. The other did not so. In accordance with Romeo, Juliet shares affection. They are in love and he is sure that this girl will never break his heart. How so? Well i think it speaks volume no matter what generation we are in people constantly mistaken lust from love. We tend to label anything we feel as love. We are more moved by the idea of love than love itself. Fairy tales, books, novels, movies play a great contribution for us to crave for perfection. But we being low key sadist humans romanticize the nooks and corner of love and romance." I ended sighting Averill, satisfied, with the look he carried. A cute frown on his lips and his scrutinizing gaze set at me. I will have to get paid for the counter attack. 

“Very well said, Miss Liya. I conclude it depends on the definition of perfection set by great scholars. And we certainly cannot attain the level so we romanticize the ideology unbothered.” Professor Whilliam dismissed the debate in one go. I had the urge to laugh at Averill. I crossed a smile looking at his way earning a roll of eyes from him. 

The class was dismissed. I carried the Shake sphere’s sonnets in one hand and crystal sipper filled with iced Americano in the other whilst a rich black back pack dangling my left shoulder. 

“The course of love never did run smooth, Miss Liya. The perspective of materialistic perfection comes out unfazed by your existence and living. You scream what you are. Attractive.” Averill whispered in my ears with most seducing tone he possessed. Cherry on the top nibbling my ear lobe and inhaling the intoxicating raspberry mist. He loves my essence. 

“And who else might know well than you do master Averill.” I replied now taking the charge of what he started, planting a kiss in the crook of his neck. 

Walking down the aisle of Ivy College, the oak tree surrounds the outskirts draped in snow. Heat was needed. Averill was needed. Holding my hand he took me to the gazebo. It was our place.

"Friar Lawrence! He was enigma. He would have been better off staying out of it. What else he was other than being a knee deep in the whole thing.” Averill stated annoyed. I laughed drooping my head on his laps and resting my back on the cold marble bench. Whilst he stroked my caramel curls. I looked in his eyes the best part in him. Mousy- stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace me when i fall, into nurturing warm blanket of love. There has been no man so beautiful that had captivated me and now the idea of such beauty stealing heartbeats that i once accused as false stood true to me. 

“No place but this gazebo supported by white floral craved pillars challenging the moonlight against your shine does justice to your beauty.” I adored the fragment of his dominating aura. He now attached his lips to mine taking me over his laps. Syncing in the beauty of oak trees and dove lovely tender winds, it’s us and our vulnerabilities. 

The next day Mr. Whilliam asked Averill to comprehend me in words of moon. Romance is all i could see. 

“She is a moon person,

Else my sun is not so dim

My stars are so in my favor

But her's are aligned just for me

And for me shall her ethereal light be

To her shall my unwavering sight be.”

He is excellent. He is grand. Class is fond of the camaraderie we shared. From excruciating pain to overwhelming romance. We are one exclusive novel that ended but not complete. 

“The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,

And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels

From forth day’s path and Titan’s fiery wheels.” 

I quote Friar Lawrence admiring the emergence of light over darkness.  Its morning. 

“You tend to choose Friar Lawrence every time Miss Liya. Might i conclude it to be love for Holy saint?” Averill asked playing with my fingers. 

“You must not master Averill for i bestowed whatever i carried in myself for you and ever in this universe i would only be returning to you before thee.”  I confessed a shy smile already making its way on my lips whilst he smiled caressing my cheeks now tinted red. 

“You are a magnificent choice.” He said dropping a sweet kiss on my forehead. If this aren’t be counting in divine beauty i wonder what else? 

“Finally we agree on one thing.” I replied with a smirk. Chuckling at his annoyance i kissed his burning cheeks and cold sharp nose. He is warm, for me. He is distant, from me. But we have passed the end long so we chase forever. 

Averill and i were bickering over plans for weekend.  “A museum date?” He exclaimed excited for I have been fond of art all my life, i do paint sometimes, i write poems and construct stories and I sing and dance, and above all i breathe, what part of this is not an art? A human in all its form is compulsively a piece of great art. But for this weekend I wasn’t particularly interested in visiting a place that is quiet yet so loud.  

“Let’s get up by dawn and go watch a sunflower field during sunrise?” He asked. I absolutely adore the idea of it. I smiled. 

“Let me note this down, we shall do this next time.”

“Next time Liya?” 

“Yes. Are we left with nothing anymore Averill?” I asked slightly annoyed. Perhaps i am running after time afraid I might lose all of it. Afraid I might lose Averill to that woman as nothing in me could replace his love for her. I have seen him go above and beyond for her, just how my love can make me go wild for him. 

“Question can’t answer question, Liya.” He played.

“Let me know one time i decently answered.” I said arching a brow.

“You always fire back.” He said with a cute pout.

“So. Now proceed.” i ordered enjoying this silly little bickering with him. These are the treasures I will cherish for a long decade of my life. I am certain, I would need this memories to refill my heart with happiness every now and then.

“You decide. I will go with whatever you choose.” He proposed escaping the torture. 

“I chose you.” I whispered.

“Will you be amazed if i reply with the same?” He said in hush tone lifting me up.

“You reply. We will see then.” I said now being an inch or two taller than him sitting over the kitchen platform. 

“Feisty pistol you are. I chose you then. Now. And forever. I care less if it didn’t match our perspective. I would so unwillingly but settle with old holy saint Friar Lawrence.” He shared the same affection as I, sliding his hands over my waist. His touch was warm as always.

“We weren’t deciding this but i am in with whatever it takes to be with you every second and embrace you in my little arms. Making count every moment and memory we make with hues of laughter and cries; hate and love.” I said with a tear escaping the corner of my eyes.

“And?” he arched an eyebrow, i chuckled.

 “I married you.” Contented he smiled taking me in a slow passionate kiss. 

“I married you.” He said now pecking my nose. 

Last weekend we had a beach candle light romantic dinner. I hate the feeling of sand beneath my feet. But with him everything seems lovely, so be it. 

“In a far flung area, there is a hidden hill not at a great height but relatively good. I once discovered it during school. I have always wanted to take you there, for at night there along with the stars, fireflies shine. We must go there.” I said remembering the details of place.  

“Fissure. Else Miss Liya?” He asked bowing. Big drama.

“The drive i would like is in the Rolls Royce phantom of your grandfather. I want to watch moon with you whilst moonlight glitters your silk skin.” I bluntly demanded stroking his raven hairs. 

“Averill is on your orders, Madame.” With his British accent that made me smile with glee. 

“I want to make you wear my favorite suit of yours with my own hands.” I said seductively. He never miss a chance.

“You must darling, all of me is yours.” He said making me straddle over his chest whilst running his hand through length of my thighs.

“And you must know how to distinguish a joke.” I said getting away laughing while he groaned in frustration. 

Brunette nude shade adoring my lips hair half tied in a laced hair clip. Dusty brown and beige dress goes well with my milky skin. The deep curves were appealing to me. One last look and i was on my feet. Tapping the heels over posh marble tiles i made my way to entrance. Awestruck by the sight in front of me, i already found my legs go jelly partly because of the ravishing beauty Averill was blessed with and partly because of Black British Muscle Rolls Royce phantom’1925. 

“Liya! You look splendid. You are ethereal ladyship. And i exclaimed what is moon and star gazing before you.” He complimented with a drop or two of tears caressing his cheeks.  I smiled and wiped the tears from my thumb pad. He leaned to my level and kissed my forehead. I feel blessed. I am blessed with Averill. 

Stand by me’ mussing from radio and i felt every word that escaped Ben-E-King's lips. In the moonlight, in the arms of Averill my head on his chest, he was watching the moon and i was watching him. He looks extravagant in white. Straight sharp nose, copper bronze eyes, full lips. I kissed him. He reciprocated soon. I seek him. Even in the invalid corners of my heart i would never regret the madness of our closeness. There was this gigantic difference between our perspective and ideas. We were versatile. But we dissolved in each other. Evaporated in love. Silver silence. Ardent passion. The calmness of soft actions and the sound of only breathe that partly thrilled partly provide the peace we crave. Underneath the shape of love, under the skillful hands of Averill Benjamin who was carving me his, the profound happiness was prominent. Dense vision. Moans. Ecstasy. Plethora of pleasure. Signature essence of cigars, inks, and raspberry now filled with our rhythms. Nakedness of love lay before me. White periwinkles smiling at us. I breathed in sync with him. I was Home. 

By Sarah Khan