He told me about her as if her eyes are pearls, the flowers- her smiles, her tears- the rain. As if the storms are her agony.
As if the universe is in her control.
He never told me her name,
but listening to her metaphors
gave me melancholic chills.
She seems to be fed up of sanity.
She seems to be insanely happy.
Happier to be his current.
Happiest to be his forever.
The way he described her seems like she is simple yet satisfying.
Decent yet wild. Enigmatic yet an open book. She is the flow of river which made his ship drown. He drown in her love river. Everytime, I hear something about her, I deeply wish to stop him from saying a word ahead. But oh, how alone he seemed, I could see it in his eyes, words and body gestures! How badly I wanted to hug him, kiss his inner bruises, catch up his heart and never let him feel lone. Where’s she been when he wanted her in tough times? This question kept hitting my mind. I wanted to ask him but.. I was too afraid to. With what right I would have asked? Maybe I didn’t mean more than just a friend to him. Maybe, he never thought of me as something what I wished for. And these ‘maybe’s shut me up everytime I open my mouth to speak.