Y is for Yellowed Diary
In the dark corners of my room, hidden beneath those old treasure chests
Carefully hidden from the prying eyes, safely tucked in a faraway corner
Is a yellowed diary which holds my heart in pieces that you left me with.
It holds the love I had for you, with all the dreams we had seen together.
Some fragments of broken promises and some of false hopes.
Those pages witnessed all that we had been through shedding copious tears with me each night
When you find do hold it with all the love for it is fragile like the old memories it holds
Flip pages with care not to tear any more than the shreds it already is in.
Slowly turn to the last page to read my last words:
Every night I stare at a star studded sky wondering what’s in store for me. I try to connect the dots and form a picture only to realise some of them are missing. Someone once told me every time I shed a tear a twinkling star is born and when I will connect them I will be able to witness the journey of my life. Does that mean every time my heart broke a star fell down? Maybe, because that explains the missing dots so well.