He creates history and
hands me a miracle...
The flutter of wings engulf the
gentle quiver of my veil...The distant cries of snow white birds swallow my
arduous footsteps.
The hazy silhouette of the man who I currently seek is in a trance revering the
physique blessed upon by Him.
I hide behind veils of white sheets, I succumb to the serenity.
I cannot help but watch him...
My hands run over the image of
his profile seen through the thin white curtains and my sepia veil; they are
gentle, soft and move in reverence in a silent prayer.
This is all I can do, I convince myself.
This is all I am allowed to, I tell myself.
But is this enough? My mind ponders.
My heart refuses to comment yet my eyes betray the soft rumblings of my heart.
Can you hear that?
Can you hear me bleed?
An escaped heartbeat, a
miscalculated step and a sigh breaks the rhythm.
The concentration is lost, serenity is nullified and the sudden sharp
straightening of his back turns me into a puddle of shivering mess.
My unruly earring clutches the curtain like a stubborn lover and I sense his
taut silhouette petulantly looking for the source of distraction.
I pray for him to not to notice me. No, I am not scared of seeing him.
I am scared of him finding out the truth decorating my face.
We are what we are because of
who we are and now even my shadow seems to gravitate towards you.
Always juxtaposed like symmetrical structures, I sought you and I found you yet
I cannot seem face you.
Not now, not today, not like this.
Maybe when we are back to being our antagonistic selves behind the shields of
work and boss-secretary relationships I can deny the entire evening as
whimsical, but now, the truth is too raw and too unbent. Because the truth is -
its now 'us'.
And its terrifies me to accept it as real.
A sigh is enough to make you turn to me yet I catch my breath and wait....
How do you always find the
resonance that I have left behind? You scrape through the residue of my
existence in a particular moment and you find my penultimate footsteps without
a hitch.
Do you understand the secret language of my footsteps?
Or is it my sepia veil which betrays my position and whispers to you all of my
secrets?
Amidst the flutter of wings, your curious footsteps and the teasing breeze, you
search for your distraction but only in vain.
Or so I thought.
When did I become sought
after?
When did the hunter become the prey? My footsteps falter, my body quivers.
Its only me, long flailing curtains, cool evening breeze and an empty hallway.
A shudder leaves my spine.
Where did he go?
Sound of fumbling footsteps make my feet scurry and I take solace behind a
massive pillar.
Is he already here?
I chart out my next route
hurriedly but my movement gets halted by a hand grabbing mine.
I know that hand.
I know that hold.
Its him, I know it.
I know every callous on his hand and I can trace every line on his palm from
memory. The intensity is still the same. His palm sweaty from the physical
exertion slips ever so slightly.
He regains his hold, soon.
He does not let me go when I try to pull myself away from him. I am caught and
I don't know how this is going to end.
I cannot ignore the nonstop
chatter of his eyes.
How I wish them to shut up and allow me to take one lungful of calming breath.
But they always manage to render me breathless.
And today, I give up not listening to them. Today, he gives up staying in his
territory and walks into mine.
Today, he surrenders to everything he has always felt, for one moment. In that
moment, I surrender too...
Today, he tells me exactly what his intentions are.
And today, I want to accept what he is to me.
The errant earring was in his
hands which slightly shook from the pulling and pushing.
A sigh escapes my lips and I stare at the object which started the whole game
of hide and seek. I love it and I hate it at the same time.
My heart rumbles in my ribcage. And I wildly wonder, what was he up to?
His eyes are strangely quiet and it unsettles me a little.
Will he do what I think he is going to?
A hum settles around us, the
sound of wings are drowned in the buzz between us.
His fingers caress my ears and I flush deep and warm. It hitches my breath,
eyelids droop and I am lost in a world of his scent, touch and existence.
Its sweet melancholy; redemption before salvation.
If this is a dream, dear God, I wish I may never wake up.
I know its no dream.
I give up.
I give in.
I swim, I drown.
I am lost in consciousness of movements of his fingers over my ear, the musky
odor of post exertion prods me to reality.
I do not dare to open my eyes and look in his. I am scared to show him what my
heart is saying.
I am scared to see the same in his eyes too.
I am drenched in warmth,
soaked in tenderness and in that split moment, he touches his forehead to mine.
It was endearing and it bought a tear to my eye.
It was one confession acknowledging another.
No words were required, no other expressions were there to be read.
Skin on skin, breath mingled as one.
We confessed.
And then his eyes spoke for
the longest time.
They were chatty, they were tranquil.
They lacked the usual restlessness.
They were peaceful, they were bratty.
They were serene, they were mocking.
They showed me a huge part of his true self.
I like that image of him immensely.
I overcome the sensory overload and breakaway from his grasp.
It annoys me to see that his face still has the same aloofness. But his
tightened fist and intense eyes betray his facade.
It makes me tiny bit happy.
He stops me.
And I stop.
He asks me a question.
I cannot dare open my mouth.
I stutter, stumble and stammer.
He waits, patiently. Like always.
I tell him why I came to see him, my voice hollow and foreign to my own ears.
His half baked answers had
always riled me up.
His arrogant retorts had hurt me many times.
His mockery and taunts had made me snap and give it back to him five fold.
However his honest answer, declaration, confession, acknowledgment all rolled
into one, simply made me content.
It was as if he had just sang an epiphany I had been desperately waiting for.
It was simple. It was straight forward.
It was HIM. All him.
And at that moment, my life started to make sense, for the first time.
I did not give him a reply. He did not ask for one nor did he expect one.
He set the perimeters of our relationship.
He laid down the basic fundamentals and the primary brickwork.
He created history and handed me a miracle.
Sookie
comment:
p_commentcount