Resting on his elbows, his eyes were stuck upon her face. The face was always bare, those twinkling eyes always had a story to narrate, they always wandered, here and there, and then back to him. They spoke a language that he never had to learn, like he was born to speak in them, like it was all real to be with her, to know her and just never lose her. They were closed this time, still speaking in a new language, perhaps he knew that one too, though this time he just had to talk himself and all he did was kept on looking. He did not know what exactly was he looking at, she was no different, just like another girl, nothing extraordinary no unusual class, nothing exceptional yet alluring, exciting and may be easy to be with and hurt as well. That little mole on cheek, she always cribbed about it at being on a no beauty spot but he found it to be his stamp and that she belong to him, and everything she was associated with was all his. He always blew a puff of air on to her face and just watched her shrinking eyes and those sudden expression, they were like the continuous drizzle with the mesmerizing petrichor showering on his soul. Sometimes he couldn’t believe he was in love with her and that she was in love with him. “How could she love me?” he questioned himself and just stared her, helplessly, even more helpless now that she is asleep.
Her hair, scattered on her side of the pillow, on her face, he just pushed back a flick with his finger and the touch of her soft skin felt like she kissed him back. Her locks were his favorite, mostly he used to be awake before the alarm but kept on sleeping, wanting her to drop them on to his face every morning and let him loose himself in that fragrance, he tried her shampoo many times but never could he recreate that aroma, it seemed like her personalized one. He snuggled his nose onto her hair, just embedding her into his soul.
She turned in her sleep, on the opposite side, like she always did consciously obstructing him for letting him see her, she had her ways to irk him, but interestingly it never irked him, he now got used to it. But this wasn’t fair how she could do that unconsciously as well. And this time he was just watching her from behind.
The dawn was knocking through the curtains from the window, and kept peeping in without his permission. He never obstructed her from anyone’s view but he always hated she watching anyone else, and sometimes when someone watched her. He was secretly jealous of the yellow lights all over the streets, they fell on her face and left a glow, he liked that and even more when she said its your love and not the light. At that time it was the early morning light, a serene mixture of colors beyond his description and all he wanted to do was watch the one he felt blessed to be with that moment. He badly wanted her to turn over and not wake her up either and just when he was longing it so much she turned. She never made me long, she never wanted him to yearn all she ever cared was for his happiness. Nothing much she wanted from him beyond his reach and that made it a lot easier for him he thought. He could hear her breathe, and the light falling on her face left him incredibly helpless, it was a delight to watch her sleep. He kissed her forehead softy and she snuggled into him. It was perfect moment, holding her in his arms and letting the dawn beautify it even more wanting the moment to be still forever. He kept waving through her hair and felt her softness clinging to him, his aspirations and all his dreams that she believed would be true someday. Something made his eye wet and he wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but whatever it was he believed she was worth it.
Manowara Chowdhury
13/02/2015
Colorless Butterfly 