And she closed her eyes.
Those eyes, when they looked at his, spoke so fervently. They spoke of love, of longing, of care, of reproach and of forgiveness. They spoke a thousand languages and showed a thousand places. But they never stopped there. They urged his to speak as well. They would listen intently and once in a while flit furtively, just a little, as if searching for that which was left unheard by his consciousness, untouched by his conscience and untold by his eyes.
But now, she closed those eyes, leaving his bereft of everything they ever sought, and much more. Now, shut close, they refused to speak; of what it was that thrived in them; of what it was they sought in his. Like a lovely book sealed shut, yet woeful for not being read, beneath the delicate lids, they trembled unbearably and drove his wild with despair.
If only,
they could speak silence.
WOW! I am so wowed by this....So beautiful....
ReplyDeletevery interesting...very well written
ReplyDeleteBetter closed eyes, than eyes that lie.
ReplyDelete@ ashley and diwakar - thank you very much :)
ReplyDelete@ atrisa - true.
Mate, you going to kill me!
ReplyDeleteif your insomnia is helping u churn out these words , then maybe u don't need sleep at all ....
ReplyDelete"Like a lovely book sealed shut, yet woeful for not being read, beneath the delicate lids, they trembled unbearably and drove his wild with despair."
ReplyDeleteDon't ever sleep, keep creating such flowing, sublime prose.
Awed.
@anon - don't you die on me!!
ReplyDelete@rohit & mikimbizi - this is not a result of insomnia :) thank you :)
If you could speak silence....the sound would probably kill you!!
ReplyDelete