Love Cuts Deep

I miss her sometimes. It’s like a sucker punch in one’s stomach.

I miss her sometimes. It’s like a sucker punch in one’s stomach. Out of the blue. It comes from nowhere and doesn’t leave. Doesn’t let you breathe. Doesn’t let you think. You wait for the feeling to pass but it doesn’t. It stays. Right there. Stubborn as ever. And you wait. Barely breathing. You wait with eyes shut. You wait with eyes open. You stare at the ceiling, you hide under the quilt, you bury your head under the pillow, you shut your ears tight. But it doesn’t leave – that voice, the touch, those eyes.

That face – it stays right there staring back at you – vivid as ever. You think it will fade away with time. But it doesn’t – the face, that smile, those lips, the dimples on her cheek, the shape of her nose, the perfection of her jawline. It stays. Just like that. As if you were meant to be. Only this time around, she’s just a memory. An illusion. Oh the tease!



About the author

The Paneer Pakoda

Foodie | Allergic to all things healthy | Turned on by all things marketing | Writer | Loves exploring new music | Bedroom singer | Strange affinity to yellow lights | (Non)sense of humour | Comic book whore | Cartoon Network geek | Grammar Nazi | Zero patience for negativity | Could happily live in a stationery store | Prankster | Carefree | Coffee Ice cream | Loves pinup boards | Detests shopping unless it’s for spectacles, earphones, watches and sports shoes | Funky pajamas | Pilot pens | Major wake-up-it’s-morning issues | Stores a memory from each fun outing ever with anyone – wallet’s overflowing with signed bills, tissues and chocolate wrappers | Come on, say hi!