Your Home

In one covert corner of my heart,

my friend, your memories breathe faintly.

I have handpicked your simplest gestures

and locked thousands of intangible souvenirs

in one precious, inaccessible box.

Since we have parted ways,

acquiescing in unfamiliar confusions,

that corner in my heart pains

most of the time.

And when it doesn't,

I open the box.

And little by little, live with you,

smile with you until truth stands bare before me.

When reality strikes hard,

it tears my happiness into shreds.

But I do not complain

because, you know,

for some reason, when it hurts the worst

I secretly find solace.

It soothes that place in my heart, your home.

For some reason, I adamantly keep thinking about you,

touching and pressing my wounds on purpose,

conceding myself to sorrow.

For some reason, I want my eyes to keep pouring

in your remembrance.

For some reason, I know,

somewhere you feel the same

you do the same.

P.S- My sister sketched the above picture for me. :)