Christine

HOW does one react when all your learnt concepts of beauty seem universal fallacy in front of a fragile figure of a girl about whom you've never known till this moment in time? How would you look into her eyes, and not reveal your thoughts, afraid of them being an insult to the miraculous beautiful dream-like moment which is as real as the eyes which look into yours.
Suddenly, you feel that strongest sensation, of those eyes meeting yours and dissolving in an uncertain ecstasy of love and sweet pain. You want to capture those seconds for an entire lifetime, and even more.
You sit close to her, so close that her aroma fills your existence beyond your personal recognition. You realize the sense of yourself dimming into nothingness, like getting captured by a strangely beautiful purpose of love and selflessness, and you don't want to be free anymore.
Her fingers meet yours, the delicate slim fingers which artists dream of in their most beautiful of dreams, and still fail to capture every time in their best of attempts. Her soft palm rubs against your coarse skin, and you don't want it to hurt her, but you are too weak to accept that. Her fingers play carelessly with your hands, ignorant of every time your heart skips a beat, and you don't want her to stop, even if that skip lasts a lifetime.
It seems like an impossibility of her being with you, caressing your hands, looking into your eyes, looting you of all sense of comfort and selfishness at the same time. An impossibility made so possible by forces unknown. You would kill for being together, melting into a single existence, and yet you would never do that, as the existing separation itself brings more impossibility into picture, more ecstasy to be sought.
And while you cherish these thoughts, the pink blush on her cheeks explodes as a gush of pain in your heart. But this pain does not bring misery. This pain brings a sweet soft sense of pleasure, because the pain is due to her, due to her being real, due to her being close to you, due to the taunting tautology that she will always be real, and not a dream, that you can never forget this moment, and it will come and haunt you again and again, and each time it will make you realize how much you want to seal your souls with a divine kiss of immortal love. And suddenly, you know this pain will be more immortal than immortality itself.

K