Love Lock

Love Lock 🥀

"Wait here, I'm coming too"

I heard someone say from behind me. I turned to look at that voice. A voice that could stir up a woman's emotions at will. That voice was filled with too much masculinity.

My eyes first went to his hair. He had dark black hair that wasn't too curly or too messy. On the left or the right side? Oh my, I don't remember exactly. Somehow, that hair was heavy on one side of his forehead. In the minute I saw him, I saw his fingers go through those curls two or three times.

He had two eyes that got smaller when he smiled. Like in novels, I also want to say that his eyes were blue or green. But in tropical countries like Sri Lanka, people's eyes are often black or brown. She must have one of those two colors too.

The sun was so strong that I couldn't see which color it was.

To be honest, I wanted to run and touch those eyes and know exactly what color they were. But I'm a girl. That feeling overpowered my desire. When you're a girl, you have to be tame in some places. That doesn't happen without feelings and desires. I'm afraid that society will label you as a wild woman.

I was talking about her. Next, her lips. The pink color that was there once had a new black color. She must have burned two or three cigarettes a day between those lips. No matter how much she pretended to be sick, those cigarette butts were lucky to be transferred from her fingers to her lips and from her lips to her fingers.

Blue denim pants. The white long-sleeved shirt he wore over it. The top button of the shirt was unbuttoned. Either it had come off. Or he had not worn it on purpose. Even though no one said no, that was the male magic.

There must have been a lot of people where I was. But I could see him. There were also girls who turned to look at him. They must have felt the same way as me, more or less.

Sometimes a couple of boys would look at him strangely. Even though we said "Hey", there were plenty of things like that, even though it was not moral. Even they would secretly look at someone they felt a crush on.

I wanted to gather as many words as I could about him. All the poems and stories I had read were gone. But there was hardly anything written about his men. More than enough about women. A fair face, swan breasts, light brown nipples, golden hair, dusty clothes, swaying buttocks.

Men are very lucky when they see a beautiful woman. When they see a beautiful woman, they can write two or three poems and put her on top.

When literature forgets men, we women are very helpless. We have to hug a hairy chest and stare at the penis that swells between our legs. Because men don't have time to listen to women's loving words. They want to jump into a woman's body and quickly release their male organs. When they fall asleep, they hug the woman and sleep.

I was standing on the side of the road in broad daylight, arguing with my own mind and feelings. At the end of all those feelings was him. That male figure, whose name I had seen a few minutes ago, was so beautiful that I didn't know the name of the village and turned around twice.

" Excuse me, little miss... Hey, I'm talking to you. I need to take my bike. Can you go a little further from there?"

That voice again. I was shocked. My heart was beating so fast that I couldn't bear it. He lowered his head and looked at me. If he took a deep breath, he would hit her. There was a smile on his face, barely moving his lips.

My eyes widened more than they normally could. I was also looking at his face. But it was strange.. I forgot to smile even after looking at the male figure I had been thinking about for so long. But I didn't want to smile. Run after him.

He kept his eyes narrowed and pushed the bike away. Why was he pushing? The tire was flat. It must have been a patch.

But women can't run after him like that. They can't feel feelings. Even if they do, they can't tell a man. In short, it's not good for an unmarried girl to feel feelings for a man.

They are rules imposed by society. Or rules we have made. Like eating rice with our right hand only. But aren't there people who eat rice with their left hand? There are. When they see such people, people say, "Do you eat with your left hand too?" That's why everyone gets used to eating with their right hand with difficulty.

That's why we have to keep our emotions bottled up. As society wants. With a big chain that can only be opened with one key. Not the one we like, but the one we like until he comes and opens that lock.

Until he sees us, there's no way. I want to forget that moment or keep that image somewhere in my heart.

"But why?" That question came from my own heart.

"Why didn't you see it? He didn't have the very key with him." I answered.

"Hmm." My heart accepted that answer. I knew it was because there was nothing I could do.