Conspiracy
Love is blind. Is this phrase true Love is blind?
Love is illogical. How can Love just exist? What is this mystery?
Love is blind. Is this phrase true Love is blind?
Love is illogical. How can Love just exist? What is this mystery?
I get down at the India Gate and find you standing outside your car. I knew India Gate was your favourite ever since college. I wondered why were you so addicted, and why would you always roam about here. You look happy from afar. I want to just keep looking at you.
I see a handsome young man seated across, looking at his phone, texting someone and smiling. I look at his pretty face, his strong built shoulders and soft hands. A very soft person and gentle. He is wearing comfortable but crisp clothes. An expensive watch. Greeting the waiter courteously, very smart person.
I look at the balcony on the fifth and I see a couple kissing madly. His hands on her chest, her legs on his, and both wrapped around each other. I take a deep breath and I look at the pool instead. I sit there lost in thoughts about you and how you would hold me just out of the shower and pull me in, as we bathed and kissed. I touch my lips remembering your touch, your lips.
To distract myself from your thoughts I search for a movie to watch and as I watch the movie, I am reminded of you. Every scene, every smile, every line, makes me miss you so much. I close the movie and I just look at your pictures and I read your letter again. I am ecstatic. I miss the days spent with you. I have complains with these distances between you me. Why are you so far away. I am getting sad and I hug my pillow, holding your letter.