She decided that she won't write about the voice for a while but this part of hers was the only thing that she always wavered on. What was the voice to her? To be precise, the voice was her own part, something that came from within, something that was in her, in part, in full. So much are they intertwined that whenever the voice used to be emotional, she could feel it right in her. But the voice has build a bridge between hearts with a door on it and closes it every now and then, and the door is opaque so she cannot see anything but the heat and the cold passes through that door and keeps freezing and warming her heart. Maybe its one way, that the rising and dropping temperatures of emotions pass from the side of the voice and move towards her, its sometimes a breeze sometimes a typhoon...
Whenever that door is open, there is so much light, warmth, tickles and suddenly the door starts to close, the creaks of it can be felt in the Voice, when words turn to monosyllables and ruder and harsher and harsher. That is the instance when she knows that the Voice is closing the door of the bridge, and she is clueless when the door will open the next time and for how long. The voice closes the opaque door thinking that now nothing will pass, but can any door really stop the flow? It still flows, and flows and flows..
The baritone of the Voice melts her and she can feel it. Yesterday, the Voice was flowing and suddenly the baritone changed, and it passed though her ears and she started to melt and melt. She asked the voice to return back to the normal tone but still the Voice continued in that frequency and she could feel the melt. And suddenly the phone got disconnected, she waited for the call back in the cold winter night outside below the stars and the phone did not ring so she returned to her room. She had hardened again and then the phone rang again.. The Voice and she resumed as there was never an issue to reconnect, because they were eternally connected.. The Voice was warm, then hot and hotter and she was melting.. But she held the ground because she feared that the door will start to creak once she melted and she will again have to wash it off herself, maintaining the status quo......
Whenever that door is open, there is so much light, warmth, tickles and suddenly the door starts to close, the creaks of it can be felt in the Voice, when words turn to monosyllables and ruder and harsher and harsher. That is the instance when she knows that the Voice is closing the door of the bridge, and she is clueless when the door will open the next time and for how long. The voice closes the opaque door thinking that now nothing will pass, but can any door really stop the flow? It still flows, and flows and flows..
The baritone of the Voice melts her and she can feel it. Yesterday, the Voice was flowing and suddenly the baritone changed, and it passed though her ears and she started to melt and melt. She asked the voice to return back to the normal tone but still the Voice continued in that frequency and she could feel the melt. And suddenly the phone got disconnected, she waited for the call back in the cold winter night outside below the stars and the phone did not ring so she returned to her room. She had hardened again and then the phone rang again.. The Voice and she resumed as there was never an issue to reconnect, because they were eternally connected.. The Voice was warm, then hot and hotter and she was melting.. But she held the ground because she feared that the door will start to creak once she melted and she will again have to wash it off herself, maintaining the status quo......
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