She was like a wounded part of a body. Someone she loved

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, left a scar on her. And the day I met her, I saw her bleeding internally sitting in the most quiet place of our campus. She was looking fit and fine from outside, but I don't know which superpowers got me that day, I saw the scar bleeding inside her. A scar made by her lost love. I kept staring at her for a long time. I felt some spark in me that day. Something which doesn't exist in this world. Something unreal.



I got along with her in couple of months. Found out we share the same taste in everything. From 'Jab we met' being our favourite movie to Humayun Ahmed being our favourite writer. We used to share books, plate of Biriyani, cup of tea...and that was the time I noticed her trauma from past started hitting her hard. She started to back off. She stopped hanging out with me often. She's afraid of affection now. She's afraid of love now. She realised she was making the same mistake by falling in love again. Love is now like a mentally traumatic trap for her.

I gave her time, I didn't want her to feel the same again. But I didn't stopped asking her for a coffee when she was again sitting in the calmest corner. I didn't stopped asking her for the list of books she added to TBR in goodreads. I didn't stop asking about her day. I didn't stop putting flowers in between the books I've borrowed from her while returning those.

*It was not about making her mine, all it was about to make her feel, only love can heal the wounds of love.

She was like that flower which was in need of just proper care to bloom again, to breath freely again in this beautiful world.

After some weeks, I saw a different soul in her. I looked into her eyes, which was filled with trust for me. That night she took me to the same place where we met for the first time.

She looked into me with all the purity in this world and asked, 'Are you someone sent by angels to heal me? Why are you holding onto me like this? Why are you making me feel this special? It made me calm and restless at the same time. It's hard for me to believe, not all the people leaves, some stays becoming our newborn soul, becoming our peace. It's hard for me to see someone making me look this beautiful, where others just made a joke out of my feelings. Most of the time in life I spent watching people leaving me without any reason. Then why you are behaving so different?'

I didn't had any answers to her questions. All I wanted was to hug her and make her believe, some people stays.

I wanted her to know that, in this world, every human is just like a puzzle, searching for it's last perfect brick. And I found that perfect brick, the day I met her.

I put my hands on my pockets and found two passes given by my friend of a concert which was happening near. I didn't utter a single word and straightway took her there.

When we entered the concert the last song of the night was about to start. I took her into my arms and that was the moment Sheeran started to sing, the whole crowd started to scream with them except us. We were lost in each other, out of this world, moving slowly in each-other's chest. Finding our souls in each-other's arms. I didn't had to answer to her questions. The whole universe were answering to her questions on behalf of me.

We didn't remember anything about this world. All we could hear was, 'I'm in love with the shape of you...', All we knew was, she was mine and I'm hers...

"Wounds of love"

She was like a wounded part of a body. Someone she loved in early age, left a scar on her. And the day I met her, I saw her bleeding internally sitting in the most quiet place of our campus. She was looking fit and fine from outside, but I don't know which superpowers got me that day, I saw the scar bleeding inside her. A scar made by her lost love. I kept staring at her for a long time. I felt some spark in me that day. Something which doesn't exist in this world. Something unreal.

I got along with her in couple of months. Found out we share the same taste in everything. From 'Jab we met' being our favourite movie to Humayun Ahmed being our favourite writer. We used to share books, plate of Biriyani, cup of tea...and that was the time I noticed her trauma from past started hitting her hard. She started to back off. She stopped hanging out with me often. She's afraid of affection now. She's afraid of love now. She realised she was making the same mistake by falling in love again. Love is now like a mentally traumatic trap for her.

I gave her time, I didn't want her to feel the same again. But I didn't stopped asking her for a coffee when she was again sitting in the calmest corner. I didn't stopped asking her for the list of books she added to TBR in goodreads. I didn't stop asking about her day. I didn't stop putting flowers in between the books I've borrowed from her while returning those.

*It was not about making her mine, all it was about to make her feel, only love can heal the wounds of love.

She was like that flower which was in need of just proper care to bloom again, to breath freely again in this beautiful world.

After some weeks, I saw a different soul in her. I looked into her eyes, which was filled with trust for me. That night she took me to the same place where we met for the first time.

She looked into me with all the purity in this world and asked, 'Are you someone sent by angels to heal me? Why are you holding onto me like this? Why are you making me feel this special? It made me calm and restless at the same time. It's hard for me to believe, not all the people leaves, some stays becoming our newborn soul, becoming our peace. It's hard for me to see someone making me look this beautiful, where others just made a joke out of my feelings. Most of the time in life I spent watching people leaving me without any reason. Then why you are behaving so different?'

I didn't had any answers to her questions. All I wanted was to hug her and make her believe, some people stays.

I wanted her to know that, in this world, every human is just like a puzzle, searching for it's last perfect brick. And I found that perfect brick, the day I met her.

I put my hands on my pockets and found two passes given by my friend of a concert which was happening near. I didn't utter a single word and straightway took her there.

When we entered the concert the last song of the night was about to start. I took her into my arms and that was the moment Sheeran started to sing, the whole crowd started to scream with them except us. We were lost in each other, out of this world, moving slowly in each-other's chest. Finding our souls in each-other's arms. I didn't had to answer to her questions. The whole universe were answering to her questions on behalf of me.

We didn't remember anything about this world. All we could hear was, 'I'm in love with the shape of you...', All we knew was, she was mine and I'm hers...

"Wounds of love"

She was like a wounded part of a body. Someone she loved in early age, left a scar on her. And the day I met her, I saw her bleeding internally sitting in the most quiet place of our campus. She was looking fit and fine from outside, but I don't know which superpowers got me that day, I saw the scar bleeding inside her. A scar made by her lost love. I kept staring at her for a long time. I felt some spark in me that day. Something which doesn't exist in this world. Something unreal.

I got along with her in couple of months. Found out we share the same taste in everything. From 'Jab we met' being our favourite movie to Humayun Ahmed being our favourite writer. We used to share books, plate of Biriyani, cup of tea...and that was the time I noticed her trauma from past started hitting her hard. She started to back off. She stopped hanging out with me often. She's afraid of affection now. She's afraid of love now. She realised she was making the same mistake by falling in love again. Love is now like a mentally traumatic trap for her.

I gave her time, I didn't want her to feel the same again. But I didn't stopped asking her for a coffee when she was again sitting in the calmest corner. I didn't stopped asking her for the list of books she added to TBR in goodreads. I didn't stop asking about her day. I didn't stop putting flowers in between the books I've borrowed from her while returning those.

*It was not about making her mine, all it was about to make her feel, only love can heal the wounds of love.

She was like that flower which was in need of just proper care to bloom again, to breath freely again in this beautiful world.

After some weeks, I saw a different soul in her. I looked into her eyes, which was filled with trust for me. That night she took me to the same place where we met for the first time.

She looked into me with all the purity in this world and asked, 'Are you someone sent by angels to heal me? Why are you holding onto me like this? Why are you making me feel this special? It made me calm and restless at the same time. It's hard for me to believe, not all the people leaves, some stays becoming our newborn soul, becoming our peace. It's hard for me to see someone making me look this beautiful, where others just made a joke out of my feelings. Most of the time in life I spent watching people leaving me without any reason. Then why you are behaving so different?'

I didn't had any answers to her questions. All I wanted was to hug her and make her believe, some people stays.

I wanted her to know that, in this world, every human is just like a puzzle, searching for it's last perfect brick. And I found that perfect brick, the day I met her.

I put my hands on my pockets and found two passes given by my friend of a concert which was happening near. I didn't utter a single word and straightway took her there.

When we entered the concert the last song of the night was about to start. I took her into my arms and that was the moment Sheeran started to sing, the whole crowd started to scream with them except us. We were lost in each other, out of this world, moving slowly in each-other's chest. Finding our souls in each-other's arms. I didn't had to answer to her questions. The whole universe were answering to her questions on behalf of me.

We didn't remember anything about this world. All we could hear was, 'I'm in love with the shape of you...', All we knew was, she was mine and I'm hers...

"Wounds of love"
اقتباس:
Sadman Saeed Chowdhury