He love pink. Her pink lips. Even when her upper lip partially kiss and suck her lower lip, her eyes pretend to be asking a normal question.
“What ?” He exclaimed.
Even though he want to be serious on that exclamation, he can’t prevent a stupid smile leaking out of the corner. She took her face away. Then gazed at him. Eyes locked. Silence proposed.
“I need to go” she smiled.
He doesn’t replied. She started walking, slowly vanishes.. slowly.. from his sight. The weather is not so romantic; still he used to get hundred butterflies.
Just like his girl, yesterday’s moon also vanishes then, and ‘a grand dream‘ shattered!!
The phrase, of course, is “I love you”. Love has become such a complex emotion to the extent of which we are very much uncertain what it truly signifies and when it is a real thing.
The common view is that love is a “feeling”, I think it is not. The passion suffered by teenagers and writers of romantic lyrics that felt so painfully are may not love. But’… it is more than something if not returned, will make you as a most miserable person in the earth.
“Life is not always a co-authored work” she said. She is my realm of cause. I chose to be with her. Good, bad or indifferent; she induces on me. I was actually a whirling mass of stupid electrons, it is her “I AMness” that magnetizes me. Some times i just talk trash, but she tell me to be quiet. She is so peaceful… unlike any other possible unity.
“ so ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself “
Once asleep, man has no freedom of choise. Sleep is a feeling of the wish full filled. Night after night, we live hundred winters rich in love..