Foolish Girl





How hard is it to teach a naïve heart that smears and smudges are not chaos; that smears and smudges are a brutal reality?
He harbors a love so deep in his heart that sometimes, just sometimes, the heart, brimming, welling, cannot contain itself. The frequency tends to fluctuate, yet, his face somehow conceals it, his love. Sometimes, again, just sometimes, deep within a fear tightens his chest at the thought of losing her. It is funny, how he would never know that love is what it is, that his love makes the world go round.
Her, she hardly notices his sweaty palms or the direction in which his shoe points. Or, how his eyes turn kinder when he looks at her; how a soft smile lurks on the edges of his lips. Her; she would never know. Her heart has a different home. This one, she feels, she knows that she belongs here. It is funny; it is funny how she feels that she knows and she feels that it is meant to be that way. Foolish girl!
Someone once asked me, “What do you see?” I said, “I see grey.” In this case, two different shades of grey, both with a tinge of pain.  

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