Drops of dream and all falling on to my closed eyes
All the more I am lost and all the more I am in love
She spoke of what I knew I would feel and she
She spoke of us and said it was never; wish it was true for it seems forever
She walked out of the bed and stood by the window. It was dark outside, enough to blind her, but she could see some light faraway or she believed she did. Tears flowing down her cheek down on her naked breast, she knew she didn’t deserve this pain. It had been more than two years that she had felt this pang burrowing her thoughts and leaving enough pain there to hurt her. It was a random search for poems and beautiful words, she landed on this blog, read some posts and found them to be interesting rather enchanting. She commented and forgot about it.
An anonymous response for the comments on one of those posts is where it all started. He never gave away his name and kept his identity under cover. He was smart with words and intriguing for his anonymity and playfulness with words. A man of few words and would ask questions that would provoke or mostly leave her shallow. They started exchanging mails, initially about his blogs and her comments, and later they started speaking of ideologies. He kept her intrigued with his anonymity and his blog posts. Soon it became a ritual for her to read through his words and comment, to wait for his mails on her comments and for more exchanges.
On his part, he would write mails explaining his blog and expressing his opinion about her comments. The anonymity prevailed. She felt connected. She found a friend in a nameless, faceless and an unknown man. He understood her even she spoke less. She cried reading his blogs and she waited to hear from him. She wept upon his lost love and she wept upon his painful youth, all in his words. She loved his words, she loved him and she knew not who he was. She hated another woman commenting. She hated the hundreds and thousands of visitors on his blog. She would suggest her discomfort when he replied to women but he would always come up with something to cheer her up and the reading continued.
Faraway on some land unknown she lives,
With a wish of being with her, I endure the pain here.
Know her as a tigress clad in the velvet of life,
Thoughts of tacit pleasure, her words arouse me,
Fear of her parting and the pain there after,
I dread my thoughts as I express them in words.
Not that she is unaware of my thoughts,
But the fear of her judging it.
And this she knew or believed was for her. She felt the love, the belongingness and his love for her. She didn’t comment, she couldn’t and she believed that would leave him restless.
Another week passed by with no mails from him, there were no new posts. He was gone from her life and his own. Was almost a month, she had checked his blog every other day. She read them over and again. She wrote to him, nothing about his blog, asking about who he was and with a want to meet him. She wrote about her love, the pain she went through and sense of betrayal she felt. She cried as she wrote and the pain reflected in her words.
Next morning, she woke up with a heart filled with expectations and the fear of being hurt. She was hopeful for a reply, even if it meant pain. There was no mail from him and in disbelief she sat there. Anger took over pain and she decided to let go. After all, it was just another guy and someone she never met. She knew it was hurting but more than that she knew it was necessary to get over him and his words. The good bye was needed; a comment, she believed would be suffice, and so she visited his blog. It wasn’t there anymore. Two years and he hasn’t written ever since, at least not known to her.