Writing was something she was really passionate about.
She'd write about anything and everything.
She never wrote lies and I can say that with no doubt.
When she used to hold her pen to write down something,
I'd just stare at her and thank lord for such a beautiful blessing.
It's magical to fall in love with a writer.
They'll never make you feel that in this battle of life you are one alone fighter.
That's the thing about writers,
With their beautiful words they make each morning brighter.
And I was very lucky indeed.
She was ready to bleed words of love for me.
I was ready to be there for her whenever in need.
We both fulfilled each other's greed.
We both promised that together a happy life we would lead.
Oh but I was unaware about how every night when I was asleep,
She'd pray to Lord not call her to the heavens too soon.
Oh but I was unaware about her disease for such a long time,
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I asked her , as she now laid On her death bed looking so pale and weak.
But all she replied was, "hey! Don't cry ,please, I plead?"
I held her hands, which now felt so cold,
Then for the very last time " I love you " she told.
Later that night, she was declared dead.
I believed them, until I went back home to find her letters waiting for me,
As the days passed by,
She was still by my side.
Crazy lady,
She'd written a thousands of letters for me and funny how each of them ended with "smile you fool, enough with your tears, I am still here, I haven't died."
