Tuesday 15 December 2015

Overheard In The Winter Silence


She was extraordinary. He was unconventional. Hers was the poise. His was the energy.

She felt like home. He was always around. She loved to sit on the porch, for hours together, turning nights into mornings, talking of the world in her own ways, embracing the rising sun. He had never felt the morning light to be as beautiful as it seemed in the reflection of her skin. Her hair smelt like coziness. And dreams. He was a dreamer.

Falling for her was easy.

He never made a choice.

She would often be gone too long. He could wait. She had that twinkle in her big, dreamy eyes. He was a seeker. She was happiness. He had found her. She was perfection. He was the refinement. She was buzzing. He was tenacious.

She was wilderness. He was liberation.

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Everything was the way he knew it to be.

She was the only dream he ever had; now she was reality.

She was the only reality he still dreamed of. And each time his heart would skip a beat.

He could always make her smile, he knew.


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There was an imperfect silence in the room. Perhaps words would lose their essence in that attempt to overcome the magic that these moments were. Their thoughts - shredded and grained by the spin of time into incoherent, broken words - desperately coated in their worldly skills to keep the pristine sense intact.

He endlessly listed in his mind, every tiny way that she had changed him every moment of his existence; her extraordinary ways.

The charm of the evening had slowly faded into itself, streetlights creating mirages on idle pavements, under the murky, uninterested night sky - every eye around searching for respite from an overworked day, a cozy place they could call home.


He had just faced the biggest fear in his life thus far. He knew she could see it. She knew where his comfort lay. Her face reflected that trust for him. He could derive his calm off it.

He tapped the last cigarette between his fingers. She smiled at him, her eyes growing bigger- those kaleidoscopes. The only thing more precious to him than the very passing moment - that innocent, honest smile.

That smile had always been his revelation. There's a child in us, he thought. There's a child in us that guides us as an innocent architect of the connecting pathways that lead us to each other. A sprightly, volatile child, devouring on the ambient energy to grow into a free-soul it was always meant to be.

He just believed in her.

Hers was the faith. His was the spirit.

In their own directions, they were growing now.

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She was gone, maybe.

He had made her smile one last time, he thought.

He walked his way home, smiling like a fool.

He was trying to recollect and hold on to everything in his fast-collapsing world - everything he ever stood for and believed in - his ideas.. hopes.. dreams.. the smell of her hair..

His feet aimlessly stuttered along the streets, lost in the echo of her words.

"Do you believe in destiny?", she had asked.

Whether he did or not, he would find out now, he thought.