I pulled out a thread
From my soul,
I felt so tattered
Without you,
Do you know that
The thread is still
In my grip
And touching
The other end
Means my end?

I tried resurrecting
The butterflies,
And we were seated
In a coffee shop,
I stained your tea
On my papers,
I read you a poem
Tagged ‘i love you’,
And after that
You kissed my hands,
Inside my mind.

I used to despise
The gritting teeth
Of missing you
But at least
It means that
There’d be a hollow
Space in the apple
Of my world
Of you
And I’d be
An ugly
Worm,
Though you
Made me feel
So beautiful.

It has been a while since happy-harmonies abruptly vanished from tumblr sphere.
I WASN’T PREPARED FOR THIS.
(*Tiny hope creature telling me she’s reading this somehow, and she’ll come back soon*)

:(

I have always loved you, have you known that? Yes, we were quite apart but they say distance never matters. I loved your atmosphere, your home, your significant presence. I have never known that, but I wish you did. I yearned for the summer days, just to get a glimpse of life over there, where Father was brought up. I was a child, I still am, but then, I was a child who did not know that family members can completely despise you. I was unaware, and you were the only goodness over there. You got me felt-tips pens, they delighted me, you knew I loved to draw. I still have them Grandma, I still do, even though they don’t work anymore. I liked your room, so cool, where you sat and calmly watched the television or prayed. I sat next to you, with legs that didn’t touch the ground, and was unconciously feeling your warmth. You gave us some sweets, I never ate them, but your smile is still there, so fervent, so dear. I did not have enough of you Grandma, I am still childish, believe me. I thought it was fine, I thought I did not like it over there. I still have the sound of the athan embedded in my memory, so loud and echoing, so sentimental. You slowly drifted away, the glorious days were diminishing. Miles away, I heard Father call you, it left me sadder than ever. You were gradually leaving us, I thought it was fine, but no, it never was. I am not asking you to come back, Grandma, for you deserve much more. Your voice is still there, faint, but still there. I shed a drop of bitterness when passing by a place which used to be the holiday routine. It does not matter now, it does not, it has been closed down. Why shall I step into a place full of memories, when the only goodness in it was you?