the poor wanderer

Shall I start with the eyes, its always so confusing when its only so much about the prettiness yet they make it look so easy. Just like they are, sullen and so piercing when you look at them, you just know the whole story that would go beyond.

Yes the eyes. It has always been them. Those searching and wandering eyes, be only in the pictures of hers at first, they be like watching straight to you, like eager to see what happens next, wanting to express the untold stories of the silenced heroine that she is. Her eyes are pretty as prettiness can ever be.

They have always so much to say if you know the proper language they speak, those eyes that had seen of the days that were nice, when she would lay on her princess bed, going through how her days were, and the things that had made her smile, and of the things that made her weary. And the eyes, would reflect at same time, a mixture and perfect blend of emotions, naice and cheerless, like sweetest cream over a bitter cup of espresso. But we all love espresso. And I love her eyes, as much as I would want to.

She knows. Its only so obvious that all the things I would want to say, she might have been told, by the mirrors and the rivers, only failing to reflect the real radiations that glows through her. She is a calamity to hearts of the ones who meander.

When I am intending to portray her image from inside out, I feel it will always be so curtailed and undermining, yet its always so much naice to have someone you could actually write to, for and about.  The turns her mandible makes to compose her jaw line, damn she is Helen of troy, only without the sad ending.

 Her slender neckline that gives her the striking exquisiteness, so very much reminds of the fjord in the north, leading to the splendor of the torso that she endows. Every fingerbreadth upon her frame gives palpitations hurting upto the cingulate gyrus.

And the supple lips of hers that shapes the indisputable smiles are always less to be praised with words. Only by the honest act of tenderness would it be able to justify the gigantic supremacy of the sweetness her lustrous lips bear.

To wrap her up into a page of words is always as undermining but like we do not need a torch to see the sun, she doesn’t require words shaped in leisure to explain the grandeur she has, both in the looks and more in the feels her heart desires.              

Smiles or Eyes or both?

At first, it was her eyes, on that august evening, when the clouds were holding up and sun was trying to be cool? Was it her eyes too? When, for the first time I saw her, i was frozen. It was about to rain and I was about to get a cardiac arrest. The whole atmosphere was melodramatic with me waiting for our first meet. It was one of the two biggest things that happened this year.

Lost was I when at once, the air seemed so much warmer, like the icicles melting on the first morning sun. Same was my heart, when her audacity silenced and pause me for a split second. But that one second was enough for me to know that nothing in world would be so sublime. I could just feel her presence like a soft vibration coming straight from her mediastinum.

But she walked like, oh she wasn’t walking, she was like a mermaid princess, floating and flowing in her kind of world. The flowers seemed less pretty when she walked passed them. The roses were shy and jealous to see her supple cheeks shaping the exquisite of the smiles. She was calm like queen with a crown. Words will always be less but her calmness was able to shatter all the transparent walls she built over years.

It was like thousand violin playing Mozart when she would speak on the phone and we would talk for hours. It was like melody that would make you be makkha just etikai. It was more than chocolate coated in sugar and honey, the perfect blend of beauty and brain and all the things that count for values in a complete lady.

“No! I said to myself. She isn’t a human. I had read and I had felt but she had denied. Nothing would be as perfect as this. She is a rare one. God had so much leisure putting all the righteously pretty characteristics on a single person. It wasn’t fair at first. And when the evening was to growing darker, yet she was glowing with the reflection of the candle light on her face, it was clear. So clear was her smile that spoke only of a child’s innocence. Of the smiles she had gathered over years and of the smiles she wanted. We knew smiles would erase the nostalgic rope that could stuck us to the dark void of past.

And there was me. Surprised every other second with the gestures she made. She said me stories of the princess of her life through the winks she sent and the smiles I stole of hers. I never felt so right to be so much clouded by the super transcendent thoughts of hers and of the never ending affection from my simple life.

To be continue…