The One Shot

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Her loving hands, soft lips, and perfumed scents were an addiction for which he had no cure—Travis Luedke, The Nightlife: Paris

Were love and addiction two different things? Then in what was I drowning? If it was supposed to hurt me, then why were my eyes still shining?

If love came with pain, then how was I still wrong? For every little distance I put between us, it was only his warmth at the end of the day for which I always longed.

If light was the hope and darkness the pit, then why did they both still need each other?

If loving infinitely was a crime, then why was he still alive, and why his existence ignited my fervour?

.

My heart had always been a silly little organ, from the very beginning of time that I realized what it was meant to do other than pumping blood into our veins to stay alive.

It was little, but it was wondrous, tricky but beautiful. Its enigma, the power it possessed was something way beyond the understanding of humankind, but that's what made it so special. So much that when it came to the battlefield, it still managed to win often despite all the odds.

My silly little heart, was lost.

Long, long ago.

Perhaps I couldn't even mentally travel back to the time I had lost my hold on it, and my soul had immersed deep down into the dark brown orbs of a certain someone, who had promised to hold me close forever.

Hold me so close, that I would never feel the urge of letting go.

And how could I ever let go?

Didn't I say I lost my silly little heart to him?

And I never wanted it to be found either.

.

Promises are crucial.

They are so important.

They are so hard to keep, fulfil, but they are still the strongest ally you can have with yourself, when it comes to cementing someone's faith on you.

And the one I lost my silly little heart to, kept all his promises.

Word to word.

Letter to letter.

.

I smile even today as I look into the mirror, the semblances of last night still adorning my pale white skin, in the form of deep love bites that he left on me.

It was our night.

Night of passion.

A saga that has been going on for over a year now, but I could never complain.

I loved him.

I loved him dearly.

So much that some days I felt I wouldn't be contain so much love within me, inside my body and I might explode, for there was nothing beside him that I wanted in my life.

Nothing else and no one else.

Except for my Arnav.

.

.

Because, he loved me more than anything else too.

All he ever wanted was me, and only me.

There wasn't a moment that I didn't dwell in his mind, in his heart, in his soul.

His love, his passion, his angst, his hate, his indifference—I was the sole ruler of all the varied dimensions inside of him, as was he—the ruler of every segment, every cell of my entire being.

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 23, 2017 ⏰

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