Objects and memories

Looking at those objects strewn,

All across on the floor.

Some broken glasses, some pieces of paper,

Some old photos, some shreds of clothes,

I tried to get over those memories.

Memories of a relationship,

Of what we fondly referred to as

Companionship, all remainders,

Of those memories now lay,

Strewn across the floor,

In front of me.

I was the one to tear those photos,

Those loving letters, those what we said,

Were soulful gifts.

Those brutally strewn memories, though,

Seemed much less brutal,

Than the way, I had been ripped apart,

From that relationship.

The disrespect, the injustice, the unfairness, the inequality,

All had been so overwhelmingly devastating.

I tried to mend, I tried to keep aside any of my ego, if any,

But, it all ended so viciously.

I have been portrayed the villain, the grey shaded person, rather,

The darkest shaded person.

Only because, I never let my vulnerability,

Overpower the other person's fraudulence.

Now, when I have a last look at those painful memories,

Which I shall be clearing off, discarding them, into the drains of the past,

The past to be forgotten,

I felt the scars they left on me,

Slowly vanishing away,

Bits why bits, incredibly slowly,

But they have started to cleanse away.

Now, when those toxic memories shall be discarded,

Only then shall my soul breathe, once again, like it used to do.