The story of Silhouette


Her hair was perfect.  Like so perfect that if she would have kept it overt, exposed and let the breeze sway her hair just below her shoulderline, she must be the Brand Ambassador of Sunsilk by this time.
He,  perhaps loved her perfect hair not because his own would grow so uncontrollably messy had he ever tried growing it beyond the sober half an inch held limited it to, but because it was her hair.
She had twinkling dreamy eyes, like the world never failed to surprise her. He was extremely bothered by her spectacles which kept those eyes bordered by an artificial lining. Whenever she took those off, she perceived that the gold of the sunshine reflected in his eyes reassembling his joy to see her bare eyes.
Her nose was sculpted to match The ones seen on images of ancient Greek deities ,  and she loved his pointy nose. Which  she often joked that was enough to maintain social distance between them. She loved it when he would scrunch it up when she kissed the top of it.
Whenever he started singing,  everything within hundred mile radius would go crazy and started to sing along. She couldn’t help but got territorial. So he was allowed to play only. And he played like Apollo, or maybe Apollo Himself couldn’t beat him in a guitar session.
She loved reading ,  he also. But he loved her voice more. Being the shy girl she was, she didn’t want the world to hear it. But he wasn’t the world.   He was "HER WORLD". So she'd read to him,almost every single night.
He was tall, she wasn’t. He had a temper, she didn’t. He belonged to her, and she with him.
I had loved him since forever.  They wished to be together forever after.
They were picture-perfect together .  I was silhouetted in the background.      
I write down their story, for they are too much in love to do so. That when they go down in history , together ,as star-crossed lovers, I would carefully scoop myself out of their story.      
For it is not the story of a silhouette.