snow

 

“Oh not another one about me”, she said. “Aren’t you already bored of this muse of yours? Wouldn’t you want to look for some other inspiration? Your writing will become stale, mister!”, she toyed with him in that voice of hers that always used to make him go weak at his knees.
Today, as he looked back to this recent set of memories that came flooding by, he cursed himself one new. Why was he stupid enough not to keep reminding her that she is the one, that she is all the inspiration that he needs in this life.. and some more. Why were his actions so different from what he felt inside? Who was that he was lying to the whole time- whom, but himself?
 
“You know you can share sometimes. Sharing is good, it wouldn’t make you less of a man- how, how difficult is it for you to tell what is going on inside that poker face of yours?”
“Oh it is not that complex of a rocket science, my love. Just look in to my eyes”
Was it really that hard? Why couldn’t he have held her beautiful face at that very moment and planted a kiss that echoed his emotions. Why couldn’t he have cried the tears that he was fighting to hold to show her that he was sorry. Why couldn’t he make her see that the most beautiful thing for him in the world was to see her smile, and knowing that he was the reason behind that smile. That she was the person who made forever seem too short of a time.
 
“How did we end up at this place? We had started so perfectly, we had the world at our feet.”
“I don’t know, princess. You tell me”
Why was retracting to his shell, the best response that he had most of the times? Why couldn’t he admit that it was, after all, his fault that it did not work. Why couldn’t have he explained it then and there that love is all the small little things that they did together, which seemed insignificant to the naked eye, but whenever he looked back, these little moments were the highlights of his life. He had never understood people that very well, and they didn’t understand him that well either- but she has always been the special one, hadn’t she? All he wished from life was his art and to be the creator of his own universe, paint something anew, every single day, and she let him. Little did he know that he would be consumed by the world that he had created for himself and leave everything behind. Including his smile.
 
“What would you do baby, you know, if we ever fall apart?”
“I don’t know, darling. It will take some time, but you know me, I will be alright.”
These damning words! He remembers it as clear as the day he said those words. Did he not realize then what would he miss? It does take to lose something to understand the true importance of it, but the full realization of his naivety killed him to this day.
Each of the moments, a chilling sensation of what was not his; each of the tears, a morose reminder of what could have been.

 
 
 
 

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