Fragile Wings.
I saw her. She was sitting on those most dirty staircases, her equally beautifully decorated "Lehenga" getting spoiled. Her prepossessing dyed hair was hiding all of her face. She was looking down, concealing her 'always smiling' profile. But still, I realized, it was her. She didn't know I was there, secretly admiring her beauty. She was alluring, then too.
The same girl who used to run beaming with joy, was there, bawling her eyes out. I was so caught up with her allurement, I did not care about all those droplets of tears hitting the floor. I had never felt so different about her. Maybe it was because of the overload of beauty. I started losing vision on all those admirable amenities. Her soul, inevitably, fighting all the lust, she had always been happy. Her flawlessly shaped hands, always clad with rings and bangles were placed on her mouth making her look like a mummer trying to cry. She looked soulless. Soulless like a corpse inside a coffin. I walked up to her, like an on-looker seeing her for the first time.
I moved towards her. I wasn't able to. I felt something thrusting in. The stretchable distance seemed as if we were millions of miles apart. Our eyes meeting each other's, I straightened my hand to her, just to get hit by nothing else but an invisible glass. I tried breaking it. Every now and then, I glanced at her. She looked at me too, her eyes filled with all kinds of emotions. Rage, empathy, love, betrayal. And everything. But she never smiled. She never spoke. She kept quiet. The disguised angel never took her eyes off me. She gazed at me, as I was trying to break the obstacle. I looked at her, my eyes tearing up, as I was carrying my hands over the unseeable glass, as if I was playing with air. She was watching me, patiently, as her emotionless eyes flooded with tears. As beads of tears kept falling from her angelic eyes, I kept trying harder and harder. It became tougher and tougher.
At last I had put a crack on it. I could feel mucho happiness running through me, rapidly, hunting for it's own space. It was simply, seventh heaven. I probed for her, just to not find her. The soul had gone up in the air, uncontrollably being controlled, the girl tore up into pieces, just because of those people who stabbed her with words.
I never sighted her, then. She wasn't there. Like an angel, she had come. Like an angel, she had gone. Gone. Those marks of her presence were still present, on those staircases. Not only on them. But, on me too.
Then, I realized,
It was me..
Just me,
"A play.."
I saw her. She was sitting on those most dirty staircases, her equally beautifully decorated "Lehenga" getting spoiled. Her prepossessing dyed hair was hiding all of her face. She was looking down, concealing her 'always smiling' profile. But still, I realized, it was her. She didn't know I was there, secretly admiring her beauty. She was alluring, then too.
The same girl who used to run beaming with joy, was there, bawling her eyes out. I was so caught up with her allurement, I did not care about all those droplets of tears hitting the floor. I had never felt so different about her. Maybe it was because of the overload of beauty. I started losing vision on all those admirable amenities. Her soul, inevitably, fighting all the lust, she had always been happy. Her flawlessly shaped hands, always clad with rings and bangles were placed on her mouth making her look like a mummer trying to cry. She looked soulless. Soulless like a corpse inside a coffin. I walked up to her, like an on-looker seeing her for the first time.
I moved towards her. I wasn't able to. I felt something thrusting in. The stretchable distance seemed as if we were millions of miles apart. Our eyes meeting each other's, I straightened my hand to her, just to get hit by nothing else but an invisible glass. I tried breaking it. Every now and then, I glanced at her. She looked at me too, her eyes filled with all kinds of emotions. Rage, empathy, love, betrayal. And everything. But she never smiled. She never spoke. She kept quiet. The disguised angel never took her eyes off me. She gazed at me, as I was trying to break the obstacle. I looked at her, my eyes tearing up, as I was carrying my hands over the unseeable glass, as if I was playing with air. She was watching me, patiently, as her emotionless eyes flooded with tears. As beads of tears kept falling from her angelic eyes, I kept trying harder and harder. It became tougher and tougher.
At last I had put a crack on it. I could feel mucho happiness running through me, rapidly, hunting for it's own space. It was simply, seventh heaven. I probed for her, just to not find her. The soul had gone up in the air, uncontrollably being controlled, the girl tore up into pieces, just because of those people who stabbed her with words.
I never sighted her, then. She wasn't there. Like an angel, she had come. Like an angel, she had gone. Gone. Those marks of her presence were still present, on those staircases. Not only on them. But, on me too.
Then, I realized,
It was me..
Just me,
"A play.."
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