what's left of me now,
is barely a bunch of photographs,
few pages of my notebooks,
and souvenir from the places I abandoned.
how do I tell you my story,
my feelings were trapped for too long,
deep within my consciousness.
what was driving me forward was basically,
How do I explain to you that I too,
have felt things,
An endless list of my lost lovers,
who would wake up in the morning,
and disappear into the stream.
And I left alone, would contemplate,
on why did I sleep with them,
did they take a part of me away
when they peeked through the hallway
leaving the door ajar.
maybe they did,
All of them took a bit of me,
Until, it was all gone.
but then what was I left with.
I found some new pieces,
floating across the sea shores,
lying under the shade of palm trees,
drifting across the summer mist,
hidden underneath the love,
love of those people who cared.
I lost every bit of me,
But now, I am more whole then I ever was.
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