I wake up to see him scrutinising me with a smile. We have been together for eons, but it seems like it were just yesterday when we fell in love. I shut my eyes with my hands; I could never quite get accustomed to his radiance in the morning. It still takes me a few blinks to steal a proper glance at his face. I love the way his colour changes – from the brightest of hues in the morning to the darkest hue at night. It was this transition of his that had made me fall in love with him.


I run my hand over his face. He shuts his eyes and smiles; he loves to feel my touch on his skin. He bends to kiss me. And with every kiss of his, an imprint is left on me. My skin turns slightly darker at those places where his lips touch. Together, we enter a different world – a world of the purest form of ecstasy. He is the musician and I am his instrument. He is the painter and I am his canvas. He is the sculptor and I am the clay which gets molded by every touch of his.


We sleep together, facing each other, each enveloped in the arms of the other. The tranquillity that hangs in the air around us is far from being disturbed. The calmness that builds within, when I am with him is priceless. Probably this is what must be the feeling of being complete just by the mere presence of the other.


We can hear the sounds of the people waking up. Nobody sees us locked in the embrace; nobody ever does. For them, the distance between us is incomprehensible, for he is the sky and I am the earth. The drops of rains were the kisses he had implanted on me. And the wet patches on the earth are the imprints. All that they can possibly see is the wet earth and the clear sky. All that they can feel is the rejuvenation in the air all around them. All that they can smell is the petrichor.



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