I might survive this pang, I might survive the next pang, might survive yet another fit…
But how many times do I survive, till I survive?
You are my art.
Judge, if you got the right eyes!
You are god’s answer to my prayers!
Repost from one of my old post: “What face of love is it?”
…Sweet girl is Aditi. The kind of girl you feel like hugging, the kind of girl who smiles any pain off you, the kind which is innocent, the kind that is soft, the kind that is friendly, is strict, is cutely stubborn. She is one of those girls who hums bollywood, who cries for Indian cricket team, who sings madly, dances, lives. Her smile is one which demands attention. Her eyebrows, the way they dance above her eyes making all the expression of all the melodramatic daily soaps she has seen is a cherishable beauty, they perform drama, they question. Merely her brows are hypnotic enough to gain over the strongest willed person enough leave alone me. Her lips are the kind which I call ‘irresistible’. Her night black eyes behind her frameless are something which I have waited lives to look into. The impeccability of her face comes to me from the fact that even a bit of Photoshop makes her look akin to a Barbie. God only knows what she actually is, but whatever she is, impeccability is the only word that defines her.
May be I am exaggerating but isn’t that what a person in love is expected to look at the one, perfection. I don’t see it coz I’m expected to but because she actually is. So I love her, don’t know what exactly in her. Maybe her smile or maybe the way she exaggerates her dramatic expression, or maybe the way she cares for me, may be its simply the way she is; mad, wild, cute, lovely, graceful, beautiful and all. Whatever it is, I love her as madly as one can imagine….
Beneath the night sky, with summer heat high; lay two souls, bound in a roll;
In the tide of stars and blooming crescent, they lay embraced arm in arm; the cool breeze and her velvet hair danced over his face , her lips chirped stories of her age , which he did not listen but heared without any damage;
At times prevailed silence , it felt like night sky; still and full of feeling like the stars, where the blazing moon of their embrace cooled their heart’s pending scars;
The boy felt like rain, in his tiny brain; when she told him a thousands of stories and hundreds of her friend’s mysteries; he lay there on her arm, caressed her cheeks with his hands not so strong, and stole glance in her eyes which danced as her talks went high.
Never did he leave her alone, searched for her eyes all day long, she looked forward along; every morning he woke up in her arms, ‘Ah! this is the best morning.’ he thought.
But his best summer came to a halt, before he named what he felt in his heart; like a mesmerising dream he held her in him.
He bore his summer girl, deep down his bosom; and loved to play his tune when alone;
Some words he should have said remained unspoken. he let her go, for it was his first crush, and he savoured the unsaid intimacy he had with her.