It was winters. Just the perfect season for love. The bonfire seemed to be eye-catching. This kind of fire was the intricacies of his life which he had never dealt before with. He sat before to see the flames which were the blend of his favourite colours and they travelled through his eyes somehow to find a place in his heart. He was raging. The complexities of life were getting grave and settling deep down. The heart seemed to be jammed. The veins couldn’t connect. There was no place for love .Somehow he couldn’t get out of it. It was a trap. Yes the fire was enslaving him.
Only she could have helped him to find a way out. So she came to his rescue and took the complexities over her. She had turned into a firestorm and then he craved for the inferno. He was a happy man. Eventually fire became the source to breathe. He couldn’t have found anything better to glare at without blinking his perfect eyelashes, which loved to meet each time he felt something worth giving an emotion. He was in love. She was the reason. A love between a man and fire which was hideous but it did come up front. And then on wards he kept the fire forever young in his heart.


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