Love Like Poison

That day in class when I was happily occupying the last bench, absentmindedly composing another poem is still etched vivid in my memory. It was not the first class of our post graduation, but it was the first day you saw me. You walked up to me, in that sky blue shirt and looking charming in the crisp formals that was our uniform those days, and spoke to me. It was not the first time I was hearing your voice, but it was the first time you were speaking to me.  Those hazel eyes were a complete heart snatcher, I could not look into your eyes when you spoke as they were too magnetic. I was sure if I did, I’d go clumsy and would mess up in front of you. Still looking at my book, I answered that the seat next to me was not taken, I could feel the warmth of your smile and something stirred in the nape of my neck.

You never were the hunk in the class, not the brightest, not the most charming, not even the sweetest. You were funny. The girls used to love that about you. Wherever you went, you spread smiles for sure. Was that what I saw in you? A happiness that was lacking in my own spirit? Or was it the way you smiled at your mom, that I felt I had to be that object of your love, a thing that you desire.

Sleep had become as rare as rain in the desert, like a rainbow on a hot dry summer afternoon. I was just another shadow lurking in the corners of the classroom, a talent yet undiscovered. Everything changed all of a sudden. Everyone but You in the class began to recognize Me. I was still invisible to you, regardless of whatever I did.

All I craved for was a look or a word; all my attempts to get that from you were turning futile. Love like poison had entered my bloodstream without my knowledge. There was no way I could hold back, now that I had lost my heart and soul to you.

 

(The second and the final part of this story will be revealed tomorrow. Do come back and read if you liked this.)

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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

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