Wednesday, October 2, 2013

A Time For Love

   The first time I saw him I was too young to understand what love is. Our names start with the same letter, does that means love? Love was sitting next to me for the whole year solving math problems, sharing lunch during recess, I let him borrow my pencil but I never got it back. With sadness I waved him goodbye when we got a part for the whole summer vacation.

   Maybe love changes every year, like weather. Maybe love remains same for ages, like history. Maybe love is complicated as you never get to solve it, like a math problem. Maybe Love lies somewhere in between the lines on our hands, like fate. Maybe love always has a happy ending, like a fairy tale. Maybe Love is perfect.

   But when Love arrived it has short hairs, he wears a loose shirt, he talks less and thinks too much.

   She doesn't know anything about makeup. She doesn't know how to cook at all. She goes crazy on the dance floor. Love has made me sick.

   Love is not perfect but Love is there. Love holds my hand before I fall.

   Love will never let me sleep way past midnight. Love doesn't care about thousands of bucks of a phone bill if he really wants to talk to me all day, all night.

   Love is a blush on my cheeks when someone puts our names together.

   I saw Love is peeking through the corners and edges of its eyes, sometimes it makes me feel uncomfortable in public.

   Love surprises me on my Birthday. Love takes care of me when I am sick. Love sings for me so I can sleep. Love comes near to me and my heart beats gets faster. Love touches me and I feel like a roller-coaster ride. But I don't believe Love fights too when we disagree. Love breaks my heart.

   Maybe I am not perfect for Love, maybe Love is not ready for me. Maybe I lost it way back, maybe I have not found it yet.

   Sometimes you have to retain the Love and sometimes you have to let it go.

   Maybe Love will grow old with me. It will have wrinkles all over its body but his heart will be tender. Most of the times it will rest on its bed. Love will hardly talk.

   Love grows like a tree stretching to reach the sky, Love changes like it found a better person than me out there in this very world, Love disappears like a dream but I still have a slight recollection of it's in the morning.

   Maybe love should stay, maybe Love will not.