And I watch her going about the daily chores. Arranging our home. Dusting the table, wiping the beads of sweat from the forehead. Unaware about her lazy hubby over internet. Can't say if I know her, but then, I have never bothered much. She came just like that, since then things have been in present. I have grown liking to observe her, walk around. A company, little fluttering butterfly, flapping around, willy-nilly, in a sub conscious way, unaware of the eyes over it. Nah, may be not, she's been flamingo too at times, silent, with intent gaze, waiting for the opportune moment. But again, time and memories in course of time, sweetens the residue of bitter moments of bickering in the past. I like her glow in smile, I like her perturbed, I like her frown with glittering eyes, I like watching her tears tumble down over her cheeks.
Sometimes, I wonder, what does she know of me. That thought used to be scary, giving me Goosebumps. Now it doesn't scare me much. Something of mine, gave up, sort of succumbed. Her ignorance of my deeds is now shielded behind unknown grace and humility.
And I write this perhaps for the reason, that someday she'll find the truth. May be she'll understand I wanted to tell her the truth and she'll let it all be, the way it is.
P.S: Futuristic Blues.
Sometimes, I wonder, what does she know of me. That thought used to be scary, giving me Goosebumps. Now it doesn't scare me much. Something of mine, gave up, sort of succumbed. Her ignorance of my deeds is now shielded behind unknown grace and humility.
And I write this perhaps for the reason, that someday she'll find the truth. May be she'll understand I wanted to tell her the truth and she'll let it all be, the way it is.
P.S: Futuristic Blues.
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