A love story you haven’t read!

Let’s just say he was the man about town, whom nobody liked.

Reasons, you ask?

Could be many!

He was too smart for his own good!

Too darn cute!

Oh gosh, was he rich!

Or may be… he was none  of this!

Who cared! He was just a man about town, whom nobody gave a s**t.

Then there was me.

I am ordinary, if you must know,

Just another girl in town.

But I collected puppies.

Lost, helpless, homeless puppies.

I brought them home, washed and gave a bed,

Till they grew strong enough to bite the very hands that fed.

But does it ever stop me, no sir no!

So I had to be fixated on him, for he is one of them, a homeless, loveless puppy.

And after him I go!

He feels like a glass to me, I can see him through,

With all his ugliness, lies, wicked thoughts, somewhere buried deep some goodness too.

I can read his words, before he spells them for me,

We are now closer than we ever did.

Do you think its love,

Who am I to say,

For me he is another puppy, I wish to care.

Did I mention his lies, lies that flowed like stream,

He spits them out, even when, there is no need.

I tell him, you can be honest,

remember? I can read.

but why, why doesn’t he change.

How long will I last, with these deceiving  Games?

I repeat to myself,  I can handle this,

I have seen dogs before,

But looking at his puppy eyes, with drooling teeth,

I am not so sure.

I knew he was different,

But boy, was I wrong,

He wasn’t poor weak puppy,

He was a wolf,

Wolf, too strong.

He did not bite,

didn’t touch my caring hands.

He ate me alive,

Never leaving a single bone.

 

Life, huh!

My fingers have been a little shaky lately, and I feel a pit in my stomach too deep to be dealt with, so I ponder no more.

No, I am not sick, not now I think, but I still can not shake the weakness off my soul.

Well, that’s how I feel when I get nostalgic or have a nausea of a cause, I can not single out.

And moments ago, as I sat here, watching the last episode of Scrubs season 8, somewhere between the song, I figured, what’s wrong.

Ever since this year has started, every thing has changed, every Single thing. (Not complaining, I know it’s for good!)

I have finally found the nicest place, but it’s not HOME!!!

I can not understand most of the words I hear in the street,  I no longer know the best cereal brands out there, so I don’t get to have my blueberry mornings, my Skippy is no longer chunky and I can’t find the same cosy fragrance of my fabric conditioner. So, no, it’s not the Same….

I am in way better shape than I was, just a few months ago, but still every few days I have to Push myself just to go on…

I guess that’s what you call, The Fear of Unknown….

Damn you, the fear! I am not afraid, so I will go on, just a moment more….

Gone!

First thing I noticed, was the darkness of her hair. The contrast between her fair skin with dark hair was as stark as, day and night. Her deep equally dark eyes, were worth drowning in and her beautiful voice was better than any melody, I ever heard.

“I hope you are rested now!”

I heard her speak, I couldn’t figure out the words, but I knew she cared.

She had brought me flowers again, and I was drowning in the sweet summer smell.

“Do you know, how much I love that church?”

She was reading the paper and exclaiming over something, and all I felt was her spell.

She had just left, but I was missing her so much already.

I had only seen her couple of times and yet without her, it felt like Hell.

She came every few days, always with the lilies!

How did she know how much I loved those white things!

She was back again today, with a bigger bunch of flowers.

Oh that black dress! It made her look so beautiful.

She was sad, I could tell. I felt her touch, like from a distance, she was talking to me again.

She was telling an awful story, about kids being sent away.

She told me about the 34 troops who never came back.

I didn’t understand , what was she talking about and then I felt something wet.

Her tears were falling in  slow motion, tearing my heart.

I wish, I could just… do something, to make her stop but she went on, crying and talking, stopping only to light a candle.

She told me the horrors she read somewhere, which sounded faintly familiar.

Her voice seemed fainting, and screams grew nearer.

First, I just felt the heat, but I did not want to open my eyes. I heard men shouting every where, thunder, like a really bad storm, only it was getting hotter and hotter. I needed to open my eyes, but, I just couldn’t move. I felt the stabbing pain… I wanted to scream.

Her voice was trailing away….

“Its been 70 years today, you were just 18!”

**Living in Europe has made the World War so real, that it is impossible to think of it as an event from distant past. Every weekend, I end up finding a church with, hidden human remains in the basement or graves left as monuments for the soldiers who died in the war. This past weekend, I crossed a road and was confronted with over 700 graves of young soldiers, who died between 1939 – 1945. What are you suppose to tell a young one who died, more than 70 years ago for no fault of his own? They were all at least, 10 years younger than I am! My youngest sister is that old and they were lost for what, I am still to be told!