She
is my love story
The emotions that I feel when I see her are so
strong that even if I try to erase them in my mind they tend to grow more. The
words to describe them comprehend every definition in the dictionary. It’s
strange how she does not understand the lens my heart sees her through. My
world is just situated next to her world but we seem so far off and also I lack
the courage and will to tell her what are feel. My filthy hands do not only long to touch her firm boobs that are
well built on her chest same as my lips long to touch hers every night. Yet my
hands long to reach for her love as my lips wish to taste her undying young
love. What is courage when you are in a strange place were to express love is a
taboo and sacrifices are crippled, but she is my love story my inspiration
because of her I continue to write. She is more than my role model she is life
itself because it’s now hard to live without seeing her.
Now I understand what love is, I was handicapped in
expressing my emotions but everyday as I saw her she gives me another
opportunity to write another exquisite love story. It’s the fire of the thirst
of her love that gives birth to this zeal that provides warmth in my heart.
Every day I imagine if it possible that I will tell her what I feel since the
emotions are now over spilling to be words and thoughts. I am afraid they would
start to develop into actions since they are now forming into verbs. When you
see her you wonder what’s extra ordinary about her, but as you learn to know
her more your feelings would transform to be supernatural so that the guise of
this magic cannot be condoned. Lately I was of little knowledge about the
difference between magic and miracles. All I know is both are able to happen
without our knowledge as she is my secret miracle to grace the short prescribed
mortal days.
I wonder if she can ever love me back so that I am
afraid to give my love were it would be rejected. They tell me love is not love
until you give it away, yet how can I give something that I cherish so much if
it will be diluted with rejection and fills my heart with regret? No one has
ever described love to me but now I know to love is to die because that’s the
point being you cease to exist giving room for its resurrection into compromise.
Maybe this is infatuation which is slowly forming into lust but if it is, how
can it last? She loves me she loves me not is the only words in my mind, my
imagination and fantasy is only filled with her picture of a warm beautiful
smile decorated by dimples on her cheeks.
I am not ashamed of her love even if it is
considered deviation to prescribed norms to restrict me to enrich myself with
this satisfaction. This satisfaction allows a vague tomorrow to be filled with
much hope to survive beyond every endeavor. Quench my thirst with this cistern
of yours waters that are sacred only permitted to those that pilgrimage to your
heart. I am lost only you can grant me that mercy of being found in your arms.
Hearts can be fragile but this passion that I have for you make mine strong to
live for an ultimate purpose. That’s what lust can do to a man even giving
words to say, but maybe my mind is blind and only my heart knows she is my love
story.
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