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?
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.