A Singer, A Sinner.

People say your voice is like a hot caramel on vanilla. Sweet, tangy and trippy, like your guitar strummings.

"And we sat

at the table

as I played and you sang

I'm yours..."

I mumbled the lyrics along with you, as your kohled eyes stared straight in mine. The dim lights gave a dark edge to your chiseled face. You paused and my breath hitched, and you hit those high notes. You sang like breathing words for oxygen. And I barely survived your storm, on the edge of my chair.

People say your voice is like a drug that pulled them to the bottom of the sea until the light on the surface disappeared and you lured city to sleep.

"Thank you so much for being here with me tonight, I love you all!" Your deep, raspy voice echoed in the mic.

Your dimples caused an uproar amidst the crowd, the mobile flashlights twinkled like fireflies in the dark stadium and I turned off the television with a last lingering look.

You are mine - V

I eyed the engraving, you carved with your sharp compass' nib on my butternut table. The very same table that had once been your imaginary piano, and had plenty of taste of the soft touches of your slender fingers. The radio's voice wavered before your drowning voice filled my living room.

'One late afternoon...' was the song.

Your piano keys slowly faded, like your visits with every passing year and empty promises. It felt eternity ago, as you lounged on my sofa, with your head on my lap and your lyrics on my lips. You said you wouldn't share us with the world and yet, you did. With a new release of your every album, you sold out a piece of us, of me.

People said your voice was cigarette after sex. All ashes and smoke rings that reunited them with the touch of a lover with every hit on the piano keys.

"143." You said.

"What?" I asked, staring at the metal band engraved with those numbers. The ring wasn't anything exclusive, brought after your first album release. But it was gold for me.

You simply smiled and nuzzled my hair.

I stared at the shelves decorated with all your albums to date. The latest album '143' was no exception, it was a major billboard hit. Another piece of me sold out. I remember the day, you signed up the contract, and you pleaded me to 'let you go'. And I did. So you packed a small suitcase and moved miles across the world without a glance back.

You sang and your voice crashed me on the ground. The kisses, hug, and late-night phone calls turned to fights, screams and absolute silence.

My phone pinged with a message. 'I miss you.' it read.

People say you're a gem to be protected. Who cares about my sanity? It battles against your songs every day and sleeps along your hummings every night...

***

Word count: 504.

Hey guys,

So here I am with another heart-wrenching incomplete love story. This is my entry for the official #JaaneDeMujhe contest held by VYRLOriginals.

I had a fun time writing it!

And for those of you who are wondering what is 143... Well, I made it as a numerical short form of I love you...1, 4 and 3 letter words :)

Lots of love,

Eena.