This story is about an enchanting buttercup girl of chubby cheeks who was wrecked inside, who is living in disbelief- too afraid to shout to the void believing that nothing good will ever come, who startles like a fawn and in that girl I see a caterpillar yet to evolve into a beautiful butterfly with the touch of love. As she’d say now, ‘You sound corny’. Yes love, I do.
She appeared like a dark silhouette on the landscape of blue; standing right on the line placed in between where sky meets ocean. All my attention invested in chasing after the trace of her emotion and pace of her feelings. There remained hopes, worries, dreams and dramas in the black space between us mingling and hanging in the air. For a moment I could see them, I could feel them and I could touch them as tangibles. Thoughts consumed my consciousness so I was unaware of wave crashing on coral bed or the captivating reflection of sky in the ocean. All I could see… was the promise we made to ride on waves, walk on sands and hike around the globe together with hands clasped tight till our spines bend, bones grow weak, hair turns grey to white and we return to dust of the ground; that promise levitated by the breath of the ocean glowed in the shape of the strongest hope. I knew right at that very moment that I was not a rider on vagabond wheels anymore rather a man of objectives.
I say your fear flows from the things you care for. For instance, I never consider anyone my best friends except for the members of my family. Let’s just say I call conventional best friends ‘better friends’. May be it’s the outcome of a realization or protective shield of expecting less. Anyway, so single off putting news about my family is destructive enough to turn my world upside down. I care for them. Fun fact, I fear spiders. That doesn’t mean I dearly care for them too! But she managed to climb a step above ‘better friend’. It was a sudden entrance and quick ascendance I had no control over. She was like a cute lost puppy with watery eyes and a naïve look; irresistible entity and my new source of fear. I felt it my responsibility to comfort her with my verses:
‘If sun can’t miss a morning kissing you,
if stars can’t twinkle without winking you,
who am I other than the king of my sandcastle
to ignore the grace of you?
You are all the layers of my cloud9,
Core in the heart of blissful shine and
I am that king of the sandcastle
still waiting for you to be mine’
And some meaningless poems such as this. But before reading it you need to know few things. She always complain that ants always find pleasure in biting her, we both use the word ‘enchanting’ so many times, she loves to travel the world as do i, most of the time when she’s unable to answer anything she sings ‘Aiii don’t know’ with different tunes as if it’s a song. Now you are good to go and read this weird thing:
You are my sugar and I’m your ant
Let’s sing it out loud…sing it like a band
What if they hear…what if they do?
Only singing won’t do, let’s dance too
Your voice is amazing but my voice is a killer
Together we sing a weird Floorfiller
We look better than Ferdinand better than Isabella
Let’s watch Kung fu panda and share a Nutella
I crave for your love and my love’s not fickle
As your ‘tunes’ make me smile like a continuous tickle
So I sing-
“I’ll be flicking stones at your window I’ll be waiting outside ’til you’re ready to go Won’t you come down? Come away with me Just think of all the places we could be I’ll be waiting, waiting on a brand new day Waiting on a brand new day”
You are charming, appealing, dazzling, and ravishing
Looks like you are the one summing up ‘enchanting’
I’m wandererI’m drifter i’m a stone always rolling
Bewildering, why’d you love such vagabond being!
Don’t sing ‘Aiii don’t knooow’ cause it’s hauntingly beautiful
Making me prisoner of your love dungeon and
If I try to pick the lock I’m only a fool.
And she’d return the favor with impressive blows like sending goodnight audio notes with kisses, playing me her guitar or singing me my most favorite song Cannonball with her out of sync hauntingly beautiful voice. My ears craved for it so many times that her version outnumbered original Damien Rice’s in my most played list within days. Still I crave for more:
‘Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
Still a little hard to say what’s going on
Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness
Still a little bit of your face I haven’t kissed
You step a little closer each day
That I can’t say what’s going on
Stones taught me to fly
Love ‒ it taught me to lie
Life ‒ it taught me to die
So it’s not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball’
She is someone who can make time run faster than fastest. She is someone who can tame your crazy heart after a restless day. She is someone who intentionally fools herself to say those three magical words to you. She is someone for whom you won’t mind leaving your tongue tied over those three words forever. She is someone who can nurture your manhood by letting you help her out some insecure state that she herself able to get rid of. She is someone every man desires to have and every woman desires to be. Idle time without her feels like the ‘cruciatus curse’ from harry potter. If that flawed moon caused writers write thousand poems; I think even millions will fall short when I’m praising her.
But despite the strength of these words, despite the force with which she’s pulling me toward her; I hear the haunting whisper: ‘Sugar sack on back, ocean at my feet… step? step Step!’ And it might be as it is anticipated. This story was about an enchanting buttercup girl of chubby cheek.s.. I will ever want to remember.