She unseals, unfolds, refolds, and seals again

A letter of long gone joy and outworn pain,

Engulfed in a wave of unprecedented fear,

She hurriedly wipes away a lonesome tear,

For the bygone memories still posed a threat

Like the undealt cards of a misplaced bet!


“We are products of our past, but we don’t have to be prisoners of it.”
Rick Warren

Featured Image from Pexels


Sometimes the only way

To break the ice

Is to stage a fight;

To slip and fall all over

The vast expanse

Of time which stands

Frozen beneath your feet,

Inside your ears,

And behind the glazed

Look in your eyes—

We can pretend

That nothing says love

Like shards of ice

Sticking out of a heart

That once was afire!


“But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.

Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

Featured image from Pexels

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