Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
teri kami b hai tera ehsas b hyai,,,tu dour b hai mjhsey per pass b hai,,,KHUDA ney yun nawaza tery pyar sey mujh ko k mujhey khud per gharoor b hai tujh per naaz b hai!!!
See there''s this place in me where your fingerprints still rest,
your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo.
It''s the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me. . .
