She loves the lines on his face, they tell her the story of his laughter. All the years etched in his bones, when he lived through his happily ever after,
Each tiny freckle on his skin, tells story of once upon a time, of days he smiled till his cheeks hurt, without a reason or rhyme
She loves the way his voice sounds, the way his heart pounds to a mention, a sketch, a sliver or a shadow from..long lost..but known grounds,
An instant of silence..then he moves on, with a wink and a chuckle the darkness is gone.
She loves the color of his eyes..they are like sunsets of their own, Warm and sad but glowing from the inside like a firestorm.
They shine and sparkle to his stories, like flames of a fire that is burning him, but also keeping him warm.
A state of mind resulting from romantic attraction, characterized by feelings of euphoria, the desire to have one’s feelings reciprocated, etc
Curly, unruly, dark brown hair. Deep set, big, honey coloured eyes. Almost oval, sort of symmetric, wheatish face.
Vicariously living in the grey between Murphy’s law and the law of averages was the girl they said wore too much black and very little lace.
She loved ebony, it hid the blue that was carelessly left on her.
Lilacs and pinks wasn’t what she was looking for, but a sliver of silver was also a blur.
A white knight will save the hoary times, they said. Many came riding dashing chocolate mares, with promises of a bright shiny life but left disappointed cause she wouldn’t choose their gliterring wares.
She wasn’t looking for golden adulation or crimson affections. She just wanted someone to help her slay her sooty demons.
Caressing her purple scars in one inky moment, drenched in creamy moonlight she drew her sword and decided to fight.
Muddled whiplashes and bloodied wounds not deterring her sight.
They coloured her crazy, called her a rebel, even a freak.
But the girl who wore too much black and very little lace, had looked at evil dead in its eyes and found in herself a bold red streak.
That ivory girl now shows of her wins shyly with a hint of violet, while her dark brown hair glints with a slash of scarlet!
She didn’t know what she was seeking, didn’t know if she had any questions but the sea was calling and knew she would find some answers..
The waves knew all her secrets, the sand had heard her stories patiently every time she had no one to tell them to.
The beach was sprinkled with smiles, intertwined hands, and promises of eternity..drenched in the golden hue. The sun was kissing the sea good night.
She sat on the sand breathing in the romance.
In the moment best viewed by two, she thought of the one she wanted to be there with. Maybe that was the question which was lashing with the waves.
She filled her lungs with a deep breath of salty air and decided, she didn’t want just anyone there. She wanted someone who would rather be there than anywhere else in the world. Someone who couldn’t imagine being with anyone else but with her.
She knew she deserved her moment in the sunshine
She had a smile that twinkled at the curve of her lips. A laugh..like when happiness tickled a kid.
The dark of her eyes was sad mostly but sometimes it sparkled. Like she was trying to break away and yet was in love with her shackles.
She was hurt, broken into pieces in parts unknown, yet holding it together like repaired with gold.
He knew she was torn, ruptured, and damaged.. but all he could see was how beautifully she was sewn!
She got back from work just before dawn broke. Odd timings came as a package deal of having a job she loved. The day had been particularly unforgiving. She had worked a twenty hour shift with an unfading smile on her face.
She unlocked the door as silently as she could, knowing the two men she loved, would be sleeping in peace. One of them met her as she entered, smiling and wagging his tail at the same time. She put her finger on lips, signalling him to be quite, then sat down to meet him. One hug from the old boy and she was already feeling better. Both of them walked in to the cooler section of the house.
She saw him sleep under the white sheets.
The indigo light from the window was making his face glow. His breathing was soft and calm like he was far away in his sleep. She slipped out of her clothes and slipped in beside him. She felt his bare cold skin against hers calmed her soul down. He put his arm around her, still sleeping, now with a smile on his face. He moved comfortably into her space.
She had everything that made her life perfect right there. A content heart, arms that waited for her and the music of the heart she lived in coming from the chest she slept upon.
She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world when she wrote. She wrote because she needed to write, because she hoped someone will listen or because writing will mend something broken inside her or bring something back to life. She was stubborn, she was wise. She was immoderate and volatile. She spoke through her eyes, and mostly wore a disguise.