A Metaphor

“I will tell you why.” He started. “I will tell you why I still love her.” 
His friend could do nothing but intently listen to what he had to say.

“I once asked her to describe people. What she felt about them. And for the first time she smiled and didn’t answer. 
Nothing made me feel bad at that moment than my question being the reason of her silence. Thus I had let it go.
The next day we met, again! And while I greeted her with a ‘hi’, she answered me with the answer.



She categorized people by calling them – the words, the moon and the stars.
I couldn’t help but ask what she meant out of the sheer confusion and ambiguity she had created.
And then she continued in a soft voice.

Words, for some people know everything and choose to flaunt themselves.
Moon, as a part of them is always hidden. They will know but they won’t show.
Stars, because all they know is how to twinkle. Innocent to everything.

And that is exactly what I love about her. The metaphor. Because that is what she is. 
A metaphor, a simile. And there is not even a single metaphor like her. Unique in her own way. Weird. Clumsy and messed. She never talked straight and it was fun deciphering her.”
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