Stories Scribbled on Sunday#12

​That moment I looked in his eyes.

I got lost.

 In a milkyway of a mercurial, mesmerising galaxy of his universe.

His breath took everything I had to give and in exchange gave all I ever needed.

Him.

It gave me him.

My sun rose and set with him.

His heart beat was my lullaby. 

The rise and fall of his chest, his embrace, my cradle.

The most safest and comforting smell was his.

He was my fantasy. He was my reality.

He was my angel, my demon. He was my man.

Now, his breath is no more. It took everything I had to give and is incapable of giving anything in return.

I still remain lost in his eyes, in him and will remain to be so till eternity. 

I now live to enjoy being lost in his eyes and memories. 

For I love him. Truly.

Death can’t change that nor can anybody/anything else.

Aishwarya Singh. 


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11 thoughts on “Stories Scribbled on Sunday#12

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