Suitcase Of Memories

The alarm goes off every morning,

So does my feelings.

Like I wake up in a beautiful ballroom,

With no wish to dance.

It was love that always felt easy; it still is.

So, what’s changed?

Is it the absence of long talks? Or 

The presence of small awkward silences?

But here I am, not looking for answers.

I’m sipping hot and getting burns on

one question lately – Does it bother you too?

What if I am lumbering in the trails of doubts alone?

It scares me in my bones to cover the extremity of the unknown.

No! None of it can be true as I see love in your eyes just like yesterday.

Even if it’s just a frame depicting memories of love in the most ornate way.

But never doubted your persuasion.

 

The day that I left you at the gate of lonesomeness,

 It was therapy, not a goodbye.

How long could I dwell between your passive & aggressive love?

People don’t slice love or cut it in half. They go all in!

As I unpack my suitcase, all I can touch are memories.

Folded, as neat as a new pin, pleasant aroma like lilac trees in full bloom.

Knitting sweaters of love together or untangling threads of emotions alone,

Who decides what makes the heart grow fonder? 

Love keeps moving in the infinity loop for the same person

with or without them. At last, all you carry is a suitcase of memories!