The eyes

"You deserve the best" she declared. Looking right into the eyes. I guess she was looking for her own image in my eyes. I don't remember taking breath, with my eyes transfixed into hers. Tiny black eyes, carrying thousand large dreams. The small droplet in there told the saga of love they carried. She loves my eyes she would say. I will smile, at her, at what she said. I wanted to speak with unbound emotion but restrained. I wanted to say, I don't love your eye. Only. I love the tiny black pupil where I find my self reside. Like a black pearl on a white fur. I love the small droplets that moist your eye just to magnify the beauty. I love the eye lashes curved to perfection, to protect the dreams. I love the way she moves her eyes in almost slow motion and I follow is all along. Not to let go even a single glance. Its precious to me.And she looks back, with the same reassuring love. Oh the pleasure. And I behold it for eternity.

Truly
Abinash

A morning magic

The door is always kept ajar. The morning ray would stealth through it and awake me every day. I will wake up with half closed eyes. Half closed because the desire to get cozier under the blanket is too irresistible. Then the half open eyes take over the closed counterpart. Half open because it can see the morning ray, the golden stream spread across, my face. But then I prefer to hold back for a while. Hastily looking for the mobile just to see if an sms has beeped unnoticed. For its she who would take over my conscious mind inevitably. Her face will run through both my eyes. Closed and open. She lives in me, all the time. I will smile at myself. Try to recollect each word of the conversation we would have had the last night. Each word she had written I would try to hear with her voice speaking in my ears. I could almost feel her whispering. Her soft words touching me right at my heart. I forget its morning. I forget its wake up time.
I stay back. She filled in each part of my life.
Suddenly I realize I am already late for office. :)

Truly
Abinash

A trust I lost

Not many times I do it. Not even once in a while. Last I felt my cheeks
wet, eyes closed, mind blank and lips trembling some years back on what I
don't remember.
Standing at the edge of the balcony, facing the chilly wind with bare body
gave a soothing pleasure as I felt the salty liquid on my tongue, running
all the way from the eyes, like a moist fountain coming to life. A respect lost, a trust lost. The birth of tear take the deaths of many. Trust, respect, smiles, love. To live is to stand by a code, a code of values. It was a great day till then. When suddenly it perished. Turned around staring right at my face, laughing at my helpless disposition. I felt nothing, no pain, no chill of the winter, no danger of falling, no sense of love, no sense of loathe, just a cord of apathy. I moved back. few steps to a safer position, to realize the fountain had died again. And no more I could feel the salty taste on my tongue. The mark of tear remained like a scar on earth's face by a dead river in a summer too hot to survive. The river succumbed, so as the tears. I moved back, smiled. Shrugged off everything in the hope tomorrow I will revive the day. The same way like yesterday and wont let the dark win. Never. I wont be a looser tomorrow. My lost faith was nonexistence. Its dead now, with the passing day. It will revive. It will reborn. I am not giving up. My trust and love will rejoice again. With sunrise, like the sunshine.

The fight, the smile and the day

She usually does not speak. So I make things unusual to make her speak. In my way. Fighting over nonsense issue, or just nonsense to be more accurate. Complaining over and over on the same monotonous mistakes, or just an act to be more accurate. Pampering her. Always. Overriding her on every small things. They she speaks; she speaks with conviction. And I just stare on. Smiling. With the pretension to be listening to her carefully but no word would enter me. Just the soothing voice, a song for me, I get possessed. She suddenly finishes, her explanations. Deliberation to convince me. In vain. She knows I can only be self convinced. She even knows I don't listen her explanation. I am thoughtful she believes, when she speaks. But am not. I am actually thoughtless. For I am obsessed with something else. Her. Her smile. Here eyes.
The day ends we bid adieu. The next day comes for her the next morning. For me the last day never ends, it just gets little prolonged, little too prolonged. And I start my prolonged day in a dream as she starts in a reality. And it all happen again. The fight, the day, the obsession and the prolongation.

Truly
Abinash