Untitled-

He was a writer;
writing his muse,
his beloved aloof of what he would write.
Not even knowing if he would write about her or some one else,
But he always wrote thinking about her and told it was someone else at least to her.
He welcomed her through his verses and phrases, expressed love through metaphors.
she smiled and giggled reading them,
because it had an indication of what they had talked last night.
Because she was the one listening so carefully.
She lived a myth till the day he died and all his writings were discovered with her name written as headline.
She cried but was happy that their love will live a life time and become immortal for she got all his works compiled.

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26 thoughts on “Untitled-

      1. You know what , I can’t tolerate people talking rudely with me, be it my friends or strangers. Learn to respect girls dude , ye kya tarika h ‘ bhai hoga tmhara chacha’. There are certain limits that one should not cross. Simple !

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      2. Sorry! Please forgive me. Haan, hum respect krtey hain girls ki, par woh galti se bol diya tha. Aur delete bhi nhi kr saktey the. (‘._.) Bas absey nhi hoga aisa kabhi. I promise to you. Tumhey jo bolna ho bolo; bhai, bhaiya, bhyi, bhaiyu, daada, daau, anything you want. Bas maaf kardo. (._.’) Pls.

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