Here I am, soaking my quill in an ink pot and scribbling over this piece of parchment, once again. I am a slave of my words. Somehow, they seem to be utterly devoted to you, as is my soul. But whenever I write, I tend to find myself amidst this chaos that seems to engulf me like the flames of a burning house. I possess the perturbed soul of a fool struck by the arrow of that sonofabitch cupid.

I have tried to save myself the pain, I truly have. I have tried to break free from my anarchist heart. But what can I do when this very heart happens to be the center, the reason of my life? Although it is my heart but it seems to obey anyone but me! Oh that little red-fleshed rebel! How many times have I told it not to indulge in such atrocities? But being the obstinate, stuck-up fucker that this ruddy heart is, the infatuation is inevitable.

Oh my dearest, I am falling into this black hole of infinity that claims your existence. As we stood by each other’s side, drenched in rain and as the clouds rumbled on, I was blown away. Not by the furious gusts of wind, but by you. How your graceful elegance, amidst the tempest, inculcated serenity in me. In the split moment of a skipped heartbeat, I felt a frozen nothing and a dynamic everything, at all once…

Verily, my dearest… I am falling into this infinite infinity and I wish not to be saved. I desire to drown myself in the depths of your soul. I crave the deepest, darkest as well as fascinatingly brilliant miracles of your mind. I devour the passions and emotions that beat with each heartbeat of yours. So it shall be, as it is meant to be and I assure you, it is nothing less that awe-invoking magnificence.

With eternal love,


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