There might come a day that Allah allows you to fall in love, and when you do you’ll be unable to fall out of it. And so he’ll put it into your heart to pursue her, and you’ll do whatever it takes to have her. Then one day you’ll go to her father and ask for her hand, and Allah will soften her father’s heart so that he’ll allow the union between you. You will marry her, and realize how lucky you are, and that despite her flaws you have been given the perfect complement to yourself. You can see in her eyes everything good you want for yourself, and you realize that every night that good lies beside you. Marriage will be difficult, she’ll be difficult, but she’ll be something you’ll pursue the best in, always thinking of her first, considering how she feels, and determined to treat her better than any other man on earth could have.
And so you two will grow old together, and if you did things right you’ll fall in love with her again and again and again each day, but only if you realize that love isn’t something you find but something you create. It’s something that abounds from the realization that you are both flawed, the realization that you’re both frayed, and that your union works best when following God’s design. You see his design and see that Allah braids you two together, and despite your flaws and your fraying, you’re made stronger than you two ever were separate. You’ll realize that your families should be there for you, that being patient and not rushing is a key to success, and that putting God before each other is most important.
Then there will come a day when you realize that losing her would be worse than death itself, and so you hope and pray to God that you pass away before she does, because otherwise you know you would live the rest of your life dying from the poison of your broken heart. So you pray and pray and pray that God bring you home, before he brings her, not only so that you don’t have to live without her, but so that you can beg God to let her in to jannah for how perfect she has been to you.
I could be given
an infinite amount
to be the artist
of my own destiny,
and you’d still show up
on every single canvas.
I don’t need you to tell me how badly you want me, because chances are, you don’t. I just want you to wake up every morning and remember that there’s someone in this world who refuses to put you anywhere else but first. And I’m sorry if my hands are shaking as I say this to you. I’m just afraid. I’m afraid that your name will still beat within the rhythm of my chest as I’m lying next to someone else. I’m afraid of hearing your favorite song on the radio in the car, and no longer being able to see the road. I’m afraid that everything I have will never be enough if I try to give it to anyone else but you.
Maybe you don’t need to know how badly I want you.
Maybe I just need to know if you could ever want me too.
I just wish she could see herself the way I do, even if it was just for a moment. Only then might she understand why even the thought of her belonging to anyone else brings my heart to a stop and my knees to the ground.
I never fathomed that there would be beauty in suffocating until I found myself drowning in the sound of her laughter.
And Lord, help me because I’ve always had a fear of heights, but I don’t see an end to the way that I’ve been falling for her.