Tassawwur

I looked at her. She's everything I loved. And all I could say to her was I love you. And all she could say to me was i love you. I just became my own play. I never realised the trueness of my statement, of my very crux. I looked at her. I looked around. I looked at my phone. At the fake come back messages. At the famished want of attention. At the unsaid things in my drafts. For a long long time, I just looked at Him. Begging him to give me what he had given Meera. Then I just looked at me. And there it was. Everything I wanted...beyond that cold surface. So far...I love you, we said. And she had tears..and I felt like murdering whoever had caused them..I couldn't see those weak wet eyes..and then we had tears..and then more...And we couldn't see each other like that..And isn't that it?

And as I touched her face, I saw her fingers stroking my tears away, stroking her tears away. And I loved her for her unwashed sick face, for her running nose, for the circles around her eyes. We didn't kiss. We didn't touch. She had never felt so free. She looked like she'll faint. I felt a little dizzy.

Throughout, the mind has an image of it's savior, which it searches for. The inability to discover the manifestation of this image in the physical realms, serves as a stimulus, to transcend his body and mind to mirror this image.