My words would make a memory of you. Draw your sketch without making it visible to any other eye. Speak of your kisses and love, the touch etched in my memory and the thoughts yet to come.

I’ll spin a story about you, about me, about us, a story of how we fell in love, a story about how I feel when you leave and the thread would be strong, thick enough to hold them and pray for us, and all that unintentionally. I would mark your shadows here and there and your image would form and dissolve in my thoughts, people would ask me but I’d rather not speak a word…

You would read and laugh, call me the love of your life, sigh at times, smirk at others, play the devil you are and love me more and more for times to come. And the sinner would tell the sage with words that are worthless by now.

“I love you, not only for what you are, But for what I am when I am with you.”

P.S- Write…please!

Image

His fingers clasped into each other. He shook his head slightly. His face was a canvas of a distorted painting, where all the colors have got mixed into one another…just like his emotions. Weary, he looked at her…

He had tried rehearsing the lines at home, but he knew they would be difficult, especially in front of her, while she was watching him, close and attentive. For the same reasons, he had chose this place, the place where they’d never come before.
He had thought the loud music would help his voice shun emotions and the sound would be lost in noise. He saw her bare arms, her face, the face which he thought would always belong to him, whose contours he knew all by heart, she looked lovely as usual.

He smirked at fate, something which till the very hour he thought didn’t exist. A song played and his fingers shook out of hold.

“I have to marry you against your wishes… and there is no other choice. Please trust me…”

Pink Floyd started singing “How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year…”

He wished that it was her mother to tell her. She wished her mother was alive.

Maybe right things begin at right times…

We met in autumn. There was nothing romantic about it. The summer sun was just fading off the horizon and the winter evening which makes you longing for warmth without making you feel cold had been setting in.

I had just come back after attending lectures and was slowly nibbling the food which I was served with. I had never liked eating alone but by then I was getting used to it, especially at the lunch. I remember, I had wanted to go out but when it was finally decided that we were meeting that evening, I had almost called it off some three times. Nevertheless, I didn’t.

I never had any sort of goose bumps or rats, cats or elephants in my stomach when he told me he has reached. I had struck to my rule of not getting ready for anybody. It was one of my ways to eradicate any chances of any special attachments with any occasion or any person.

When I saw him, I didn’t admire him for his sun-kissed looks even when I prefer dark complexions, neither do I noticed that his short, cropped hair suited him well, I just wished he was taller than me, for I don’t much like walking with guys who are shorter than me.

When I came back I just told myself that we were just two strangers in the same city at the same time.

Things haven’t changed much now. I guess! Only that I dress up for him or at least I give myself a look in the mirror. I feel those butterflies and a little music and I believe that we are two strangers in the right city at the right time.

Did I tell you, autumn is close again…

Romance.Rains.Rides.Roads.Romance.Reminiscence.