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Rendezvous by Srishti Aishwarya

Updated: Apr 28, 2020

She knew what she didn't want to be, was to be. She is a labyrinth no one  one could get through. She is enticing and menacing. She is strong coffee and marshmallow. She isn't  there and she is everywhere. Her words spurted like the tossed popcorn and her silence is darker than the aphotic zone.

Brazen and beautiful, she is the scorching sun of noon and the the late twilight hugging the moon. He has those dark intense eyes, calling you to knock on his soul, hug him and ruffle his curls. His voice is made of early mornings and crispy sunshine. And a clandestine chest of emotions, hidden behind those eyes. He smells of mist and moon, and has an aura of innocence and an eon of life on the shoulder. His hugs are a fistful of stardust, leaving behind a tingling warmth, traveling up to become an unknowing smile. He is a closed book with frayed unread pages, of stories of disquietude, and blank pages of things that were left unsaid and untold. They met over shared coffee and banality. They met like an unfolding story that may never get complete. Their story is of warm winter evenings and the yellow lamp by the bed side. Theirs is a story of whispers and uncharted choppy waves. It ends today and it ends never. Maybe he'll get through the labyrinth and maybe she'll read the unread and blank pages of his story. Or maybe its just this, inchoate.

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