(7)
I opened my eyes to find myself in his room but he was not here and I knew he was never coming back. These thirsty eyes will never have the pleasure to see him again. My craving lips would never be able to feel his sweet taste again. I squeezed the sheets in angst and tears started flooding all over my face hoping that someday everything will make perfect sense.
I was burning in the intensity of our love. I could never forget him or our irrevocable unconditional eternal love. It was not his fault I could never blame him for anything but for leaving me alone on my own. I just hope I would have the pleasure the utmost dignity to be perished in saving his soul. It does not matter what he was his soul was pure and divine like his heart worth saving no matter if its cost was thousands of murky hollow souls like me. I felt like a doleful afflicted loathly piece of mass that couldn’t save her lover. I was a cheater my love was evincible powerless hollow just like my soul it couldn’t do any good; it eloped escaped ambushed when death cremation of this worthless mundane body came. His love was angelic, celestial, ambrosial, par from mere worldly coming and going. He saved my useless body but he took away my heart ma soul with him forever. I know I could never see him again but I could feel him all over me, playing strings of my soul and my heart dancing to the enchanted tunes of his vrai love lost in his celestial beauty and he was penetrating me deep inside not just my body but my heart my soul he was dissolved inside me diffused into my soul; we were one for ever now.
In the past 24 hours I have learned the true meaning of love. Love is eternal madness erupts like infinite volcanoes shaking our soul like fourteen richer scale earthquake; our roots entwined together that it became inconceivable to ever apart.
I was always tempted with the idea of being in love wanted to feel amalgation of indispensable passion, the breathlessness of being intoxicated, making several promises, fighting and teasing, exchanging lots of gift, being pampered loving the indescribable excitement, the longing but now I know this fascination is not love. Love is when all the blossoms fall when we are burned and broken, damned and secluded left alone to face, to fight and to breathe, to live, to laugh, to wait for the other and to perpetuate our love forever.
You dictated my love, my decision, and my feelings. It feels like far more you were well rehearsed for all of this. What else is there to say but we found love in a hopeless place and to own it “Someone Has To Pay”.
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The journal dropped off my hand. I was completely lost inside the life of Elyom and mesmerized by Enif. Elyom had lived every shade of love-
Phileo- The Immense Affection
Storge- The Real Friendship
Eros- The Most Sensual and Passionate Physical Love
Agapao- The True and Most Powerful Love
I was thinking about the last words of Elyom and Enif “Someone has to pay”. I wanted to see them together loving each other, totally consumed; intoxicated but life is not a fairy tale, someone always have to pay. But I was not sure who payed more Enif who was damned forever or Elyom who lost everything even her soul.
I decided to leave the Ville and never come back. I have never been satisfied with my life; I always wanted more. I wanted to be loved, adored, appraised but all I felt was neglected as if I will always be alone, neglected, abandoned. Today Elyom made me realize far more at the surface of the ocean the drop we keep avoiding we possess it. Loneliness is a bash in itself. I felt complemented, she has illuminated my soul, edificed me with her unconditional love.
I saw something coming out of the journal. I bend and grabbed the life of Elyom lying on the floor. There was a small antique mirror glued at the last page. I took it out carefully. It was beautiful, with something scripted over it in Romanian. I turned the mirror and looked into it; Elyom was totally right it was a real beautiful mirror.
Suddenly I saw a figure so ambrosial, amatory and ensnaring, behind me, walking slowly towards me making me skip my breath. He grabbed my shoulder and my body chilled, started trembling. I was at my edge and knew nothing would ever be same. Knapp Ville was filled with the echoes of my crying heart “someone has to pay” and I was wondering was that someone Me and then the voice of my inevitable death came-
“WHO ARE YOU?”
Twinkle (Sugandha) Varshney is an enthusiastic Indian writer, blogger and creative thinker. She has written for several local magazines from the age of 8. She is compiling her paranormal fiction novel which would be published next year. She is also working for some other anthologies. She maintains a blogs to network with her friends and readers about at https://www.speakingtree.in/public/twinklevarshney.
Pleasant Dreams Page 27
