Fill the emptiness of a paper
Being a writer I want to say that:
My fondness for her is represented as suspicion on a piece of paper.
My writings inevitably form the most beautiful poetry when it’s for her.
I love to write for her, I love to share it with her and I love the wonderment how she would read them. Although she reads them like others do but she reads and that means a lot to me.
My pen and paper are in a never-ending relationship with each other when I write for her and about her.
I love to express my feelings and my thoughts for her. My heart speaks, my pen speaks what I cannot.
My pen connects to the paper and that paper connects to my heart and my heart is simultaneously connected to her and then the stream of blood is slowly calligraphed on the paper in an exquisite form which helps me to weave words to embrace her beauty.
My feelings for her fill the emptiness of the paper in such an elegant manner which I can’t even define.
When I write for her or her, it is like I am hearing her heart out. I wish she would too.
At night when I write, she always appears as my last thought of the night like a breath that no one can snatch it from me, it is mine.
She once asked do you feel it. I wish she could feel it in my writings though.
Writing for her completes me, it is like I am with her, and she’s around me even if she’s not. It’s not that I deliberately write for her, it is because she’s in my mind all the time. I might be writing for the one who can never be mine in this life but I wish to meet her in the heaven as a pure spirit, who knows the next chapter of life.
I used to like her until I realized I love her. Now I love her...
Picture Courtesy: Pinterest
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