Holding on to the strings

She couldn't express her feelings in words. But that wasn't the problem, the problem was that she tried expressing, and she failed every time. He would judge her words, and made conclusions based on them. She loved words, she loved people, and she loved life. He loved thoughts, he loved landscapes, and he loved

imagination. 

They were two different people, deeply in love with each other. But often when you fall in love, you just fall in love. There is no reason. After falling in love with him, she felt that people fall in love with each other’s differences, or was it only her. Oh, he loves adventure, how interesting, I have never had the opportunity to do something adventurous, and I might like it too. Oh she is so bubbly, I’m not like that, I love her eyes, and they twinkle all the time. She would always worry about all the things around her, and he just lived because life is to be lived, with no aim or reason.

She would dance to feel her body move, he would dance because the music would make him groove. They were different people but they were in love with each other’s differences. But love always becomes a little complicated, because with time she couldn't help asking questions: What is that thing which he loves about me? Why is he so careless? He started to compare his love to hi imagination, to the world he had created in his mind. Why is the love so entangling? Why isn't' it like a free bird?

She would get upset, and he would get irritated. She would complain, and he would shout. She would anyway want to forget it, but he would hold on to it. She would stop talking, and he would stop to imagine. The differences they loved, were falling apart. She would no more write, and he would no more play music and take her to his world. She would no more try and express and he would no more tell her stories. She would no more look into his eyes, and he would no more make love to her.

But they were in love, they couldn't leave. He was still there, and she was still here. He still cared, and she would still worry. He would still build stories, and she would still write. But they were scared to communicate. The strings were very weak, they could break any moment. Both of them were holding on to them, they never knew they will break anyway.