Lies to Myself..

On some things I know I have lied to myself – and this is one of them. After swearing to destroy all of her things, I know I haven’t really discarded all ... somewhere hidden in an album lie, now yellowing photographs  - still beautiful with a hint of those times – in an academic file alongside my notes – I am sure -  lies buried - a birthday card – and amongst the modest treasures of my wallet is a guitar pick – that still fancies her touch. ..

Masked cleverly in my words, somewhere lie  - subtle references - to memories only one reader can relate......  In empty corridors of a dilapidated structure, there still can be heard - echoes of her laughter and although, now abandoned – there still flows a river -  now mourning with salted water.

In the waking hours of some nights, the bed still longs her warmth. And the still air – now devoid of her scent – feels like a vacuum mocking my heart.

On some things I know, I have lied to myself and this is one of them ......  Oh! How I wish there were words that could describe – How much I miss her on some days ....  

– Sanket