Disclaimer: Any resemblence to anyone dead or alive is purely coincidental.
P.S.(pre script)- I dont know what has woken up the writer inside me from such a long slumber.
May be, due credit should be given to John Green, for writing in such a marvelously satiating way.That inspires.
He is grand, by far.
Coming to the real story.
Story of my girl.
Story of sugar.
Although her beauty is unfathomable is words.
But I like taking my chances.
(Who knows it might melt her heart).
My endeavors seems akin to that of Rumi, which he faced when he thought of bringing a gift for His love.
He wrote:
"You have no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right.
What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the ocean.
Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.
It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.
So I've brought you a mirror.
Look at yourself and remember me."
I wish I could say it in the manner he said.
Nevertheless my incapability should not stop me.
Okay.
Her hair.
Those long black locks, brushing her face, falling carelessly over her shoulders.
Always tied with a single pin at back.
The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know.I just wanna bury my nose in a mountain of her tresses just wanted to go to sleep forever.
Her eyes.
They speak volumes, even when she is quite.
Those almond shape eyes have little mischief too.
When she blushes,its like rustle of leaves in fall.
Gosh! When she throws that look of "go fuck yourself",it works like a kryptonite for me.
Her lips.
Mine always tremble for union with hers.
Those rose petals lips... and I can just imagine... that it would like be first swallow of water... after you just crossed the desert.
Her everything.
All this and hell lot.
But it serve only as iota, that fetch me towards her.
There is lot and lot more to her.
Some other day.
John Green said:
“They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting".
P.S.(pre script)- I dont know what has woken up the writer inside me from such a long slumber.
May be, due credit should be given to John Green, for writing in such a marvelously satiating way.That inspires.
He is grand, by far.
Coming to the real story.
Story of my girl.
Story of sugar.
Although her beauty is unfathomable is words.
But I like taking my chances.
(
My endeavors seems akin to that of Rumi, which he faced when he thought of bringing a gift for His love.
He wrote:
"You have no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right.
What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the ocean.
Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.
It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.
So I've brought you a mirror.
Look at yourself and remember me."
I wish I could say it in the manner he said.
Nevertheless my incapability should not stop me.
Okay.
Her hair.
Those long black locks, brushing her face, falling carelessly over her shoulders.
Always tied with a single pin at back.
The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know.I just wanna bury my nose in a mountain of her tresses just wanted to go to sleep forever.
Her eyes.
They speak volumes, even when she is quite.
Those almond shape eyes have little mischief too.
When she blushes,its like rustle of leaves in fall.
Gosh! When she throws that look of "go fuck yourself",it works like a kryptonite for me.
Her lips.
Mine always tremble for union with hers.
Those rose petals lips... and I can just imagine... that it would like be first swallow of water... after you just crossed the desert.
Her everything.
All this and hell lot.
But it serve only as iota, that fetch me towards her.
There is lot and lot more to her.
Some other day.
John Green said:
“They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting".
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