The Deranged Thoughts Of A Girl

He writes down the name of every girl he has fallen in love with. What a strange thing to do. For people like us, for whom love came like the showers in desert, so rare, using a pen and a paper to remember people was futile. We had them etched in our hearts. Too beautifully sculpted for eternity. I could sense pride in his eyes. I wanted to erase it. I told him there was nothing so precious about his little idea. He calls us rigid, too scared to open up, to fall in love, always worried about the consequences. He was right. I kept my silence, hastily thinking of ways to prove him wrong. He wanted me to talk. Not to listen, but to prove me wrong again and again. And I wanted to talk. But I wanted to listen more. So I ask him about the girls. His stories were exceptional. I didn't want to admit it at first, but I finally gave in. People like him, they gave it all. All of them, whole. The intense desire to prove him wrong turned to faint admiration. And within seconds, I started

Among all the wildflowers I have ever met, You will always hold a special place. Never would I be able to explain, The intimacy of our paper-thin encounter, And the glorious journey thereafter. I passed by you the first time, the second time, and well the third time does bring the charm. And then and there, I knew, I felt, The cluster of magic being added to our stories. As the day passes, taking back all the memories and regrets, Stripping us of all the miniscule moments of emotions, I still can't help remembering my life without you. Among all the wildflowers I have found in the wild, I hope you love the place you bloomed.