A textual affair Thats what it was. An affair of words. They had hardly met. They had rarely spoken. Their love was evolved than these primordial modes of communication. They wrote. All through the day, late into the night. Madly, compulsively, compassionately. But it was not just a textual love. It was also a love of defiance. A bold defiance of all other senses. The sound of her voice, no matter how sweet, was not an inducement. The sight of her face, no matter how pure, was never a temptation. The touch of her cold hands, no matter how alive, was never experienced. The smell, always the most powerful way to remember someone by, was a mystery and would always remain so. The last sense of taste, as it may be known by now, is a matter of fiction. The senses did not matter. The words did and so it continued. It was also a love in black and white. Black letters on white paper. Color did not exist here. It was a needless luxury, may be, a nuisance too. The pure antithetical bigamy of black and white came to represent a relationship that was essentially neither. It was also a doomed love. No matter how magical, text could only do that much. While an excellent tool and expression of love, text by itself was never enough. The words soared and they sailed with them. With time their hearts had become too heavy and the desires too strong for the words to lift. In the end, all it had become is an unsustainable love.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 05:44:55 +0000