styar
but his love demanded nothing, not even a reply. it was more of a tribute of the mind, a sight delightfully appealing to his eyes. seeing her like this seems enough for him to breath and move as any human being would.
anyhow, such sagacity would never satisy an urging to have more. to have more than what she could afford to give him. more than the sight, he wishes to see life. more than life, he yearns sustenance.
she stood from him like a determined, whirlwind giving stance to his limp stature. oddly enough to conjure all the tribulations but fairly sufficing to iron and ease out everything. he sees her as the most anticipated placebo to such illness called madness. the cure, the insurmountable pain killer, the antidote, the life-giver. she was all to him. the only living treasure he could not afford to donate... not even to the most helpless organization. a single gem that he would continue to selfishly own even in his dreams.
for him, such existemce cannot out do anything. not even the biggest favor he could do hor her. and that even when he's at the farthest place on earth, he would run and be there for her. to make her laugh when she's weary. ease out everything through constant kind words. he could cry for her. laugh with her even during his own nostalgic ages. he could fake a laugh and turned them into a blissful one. make jokes at his expense or simply say words to flatter her. he could do everything, even die for her. an dout of these certainties, he couldnt do one thing --to make he rlove him...
its not something to be blatant about. in fact he is ashamed of it. he is very reluctant to even tell it to anyone. to tell someone that he could make any woman love him but her. anyone but her. but he doesnt want anyone. all he wanted was her breath that could give life to his own lungs. and hopefully they wil have to breath as one. hopefully...
>love is just like life, it's not always easy and it does not always bring happiness... but when we do not drop living, why should we drop loving! -hammad chhipa
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