Old love
As potent and armed
As a worn out bag
of old regrets
As heavy on our hearts perhaps
But not as good as a fleck of nostalgia
We keep them aside
Hoping to never cross paths
But they break in
Somehow, someday
Even when we aren’t looking
Old buttons, stitched on new clothes
Even when they glow
We miss the old sheen
We are crazy scribbles
Looking for healed wounds in unmarked graves
On a rainy day, when the clouds gather up
We wish for morrows
That we never lived
We are fragile beings
Hurt by canons of repentant emotions
We crave for those
Whom we let go
We wish for the calm after the storm
And the lives we never lived
-Rianka Bose Saha
Tender, moving… exquisite. ❤️