While cleaning my closet, I caught hold of the box of memories.
The box of memories that enclosed the forgotten diary.
My hands trembled conveying not to unlid it,
Don't pick it, don't open it, then my heart sighed.
That forgotten diary -
The torn pages reminded me of everything I wrecked,
The blank ones reminded me of everything incomplete,
And there were still these one left, nether torn nor blank
Marred with tears, marred yet not destroyed like my soul.
Then I closed the diary, like I closed my heart
And consigned it to oblivion once again.
Comments
Post a Comment