He was plagued by her thoughts. He couldn't get her out of
his mind. An obsession took over him. There was a void somewhere within
him, that only she could fill. Just her. Nothing else mattered. No one
else mattered. He had left his job a long time ago. It didn't really
matter. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He grew up in a
posh Delhi neighborhood. Went to the best school. Somewhere between
school and college he met her. It was a summer romance. Atleast that is
what she thought.
She left him. She only thought of him as a booty call. What she didn't know that he was in love with her. And what a gruesome lover he was. But it was just like a vacation for her. She left him. It never really mattered to her. He, never really mattered to her. So, she left him.
It had been more than 8 years. He longed for her. Her lips, her soft skin, her fragrant hair. It had been ages since he saw her, yet plagued by her thoughts. So he got ready for vengeance. She broke his heart. He wanted to break her. As if she were a porcelain doll.
He did it. He went up to her house. She was all alone. Perfect. He poured gasoline all over the place. She tried to stop him. He wouldn't. She tried to tell him something. He didn't listen. He pushed her aside. She hit her head and fainted. The lighter was lit, the flames roared. He sat down. He held her. She came to. She tried to tell him something. He shushed her. There was no need for words. It was poetic. The flames took over them. They burned for hours and hours. Only thing left, was ashes.
She came home. She had her little red polka dotted dress on. Just like her mother, a porcelain doll. All she saw were firemen and gawking neighbors. She didn't understand a thing. She looked around and saw the sadness. She knew she was orphaned. She never had a father. Only a summer romance, as her mother always told her.
Okay, so I read a friend's poem, and a story struck me. Of course, I did ask for his permission. Read his poem- http://and-then-he-laughed.blogspot.com/2011/04/plagued-by-her-thought.html
She left him. She only thought of him as a booty call. What she didn't know that he was in love with her. And what a gruesome lover he was. But it was just like a vacation for her. She left him. It never really mattered to her. He, never really mattered to her. So, she left him.
It had been more than 8 years. He longed for her. Her lips, her soft skin, her fragrant hair. It had been ages since he saw her, yet plagued by her thoughts. So he got ready for vengeance. She broke his heart. He wanted to break her. As if she were a porcelain doll.
He did it. He went up to her house. She was all alone. Perfect. He poured gasoline all over the place. She tried to stop him. He wouldn't. She tried to tell him something. He didn't listen. He pushed her aside. She hit her head and fainted. The lighter was lit, the flames roared. He sat down. He held her. She came to. She tried to tell him something. He shushed her. There was no need for words. It was poetic. The flames took over them. They burned for hours and hours. Only thing left, was ashes.
She came home. She had her little red polka dotted dress on. Just like her mother, a porcelain doll. All she saw were firemen and gawking neighbors. She didn't understand a thing. She looked around and saw the sadness. She knew she was orphaned. She never had a father. Only a summer romance, as her mother always told her.
Okay, so I read a friend's poem, and a story struck me. Of course, I did ask for his permission. Read his poem- http://and-then-he-laughed.blogspot.com/2011/04/plagued-by-her-thought.html
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