Honey-sweet Paradox!

Between the lines are the inexpressible yet, manifested. There reclines the unseen yet recognized, distinguished and identified. You can feel the confusion caused by a honey-sweet sourness, hesitation of a confident heart, a smile of eyes filled with tears and the benevolence of a broken heart. Between the paradox of synonyms and the agreement of antonyms, words fall short to weave the portrayal of what's in him.

Sometimes it’s all said when she says nothing... And its always there when they speak. They tease the air between them trying to figure out what's within one another, though inviting joy among them. A look here, a blush there and eye to eye sight that she cannot bear... They enjoy their togetherness wherever they may go and ending their meetings does nothing but spicing up what they experience together..

When its bed time, she hugs her pillow tight, squeezing it as much as she misses him, wishing it would incarnate him, even for some time. She rolls in her bed of dreams finding no comfort while spilling thoughts of him everywhere around her pillows. And she doesn't fall asleep for no dream would be compared to her thought of him.

Yet, what's between the lines remain between the lines... But, maybe one day those lines may fade to reveal what's in there between them... If I would be able to strip the poems off their words, and the music off its tones, just to know what's there between the lines... But what would music be with no tones and poems with no words... So, let the inevitable truth reveal it all, for it's all said when she says nothing..


I bet you have put yourself in Her/ His place... It has been the case with many, for so long... Same old story, same old song...

Andy.

How she is and how we are...

Yeah... An experience no like tasting deliciousness neither seeing extravagant beauty nor touching heaven with my hands... It eradicates the worries of the day and kindles joy in my heart. Her voice soothingly expressed morning greetings, like the flow of a smooth water fall into the rivers of my veins…  As close as her voice is over the phone, I wish her lips murmured it into my ears to feel her breath brush my cheek, wrapping me up in softness of her words…  

I can hear her smile and see her laughter. It just fuels my heart with her charm. The scent of fumes of mutual yearnings, fills our surroundings, fills the gaps between us… She sighs at my words, trying to keep pace of her breath while losing the thought of the now and traveling on a cloud of reveries… She enjoys it all for the state of trans she dwells within while experiencing something of me, something about me, or maybe just me...

She offers me the chance to be lazy full of fun, allowing me to fake my helplessness that puzzles her mind. That’s when her motherly instinct shows up to me, acting like mummy towards her babe... She loves it when she scolds her naughty boy for whatever. She will just give it a name and rebuke him for it... 

She wonders anticipating my every thought… She's captivated in words that irritate her curiosity, growing her restlessness and steering butterflies of anxiety in her stomach, shaking her inside out. Even my silence provokes her, drives her out of sanity, though I never meant it.

That's just a snippet of how she is and how we are... 

Andy.