Moments and Memories.

As my soul longs for love on a stranded night,
my eyes stick on to a yellow folder sitting down in a dusky deserted corner
of my room as if screaming out to me
to open up the jar of memories etched in it.
I turn the white pages which had these little red hearts at the end of every next sentence.
Somewhere between holding his hand, resting my head on his shoulder, caressing his hair, making wishes for us on nights like these,
tasting his lips which were as sweet as sugar,
making love during the dusk of winters,
that silent comforting smile of his,
the silences of love which never needed words,
the awkward stares in between the conversation just to adore each other,
the twirling of fingers in crowded places so that we never get away from each other’s gaze,
the cracks in the hearts that brought light in each other’s life,
the soft feels of love that told me that you are mine
to the dried up conversations and muffled cries,
to the uncertainties in smiles,
to the distance between the hearts that could no more be filled with love,
to silent sufferings and darkness inside our minds,
I remembered it all.
The hearts at the end of the sentences aren’t broken, the heart you sent me in the chat is still beating unlike ours.
Moments stay. Memories stay. Every little thing stays.
It’s not the days, months or years but the moments that remain
and they haunt us on days and nights like these
when we try our best to row away from the ocean of memories.