My heart,
Is a jigsaw puzzle composed of
Pieces of souvenirs from wherever
Life has taken me

Sunny mounts of happiness,
Dark troughs of gloom,
Blind alleys of secret memories

Punched out remains
Of the parts that I gifted to
Those special few

Uneven buds added on
To the surface, because some gave me
Pieces of their hearts too

Marks of where it was trodden on,
Scars that show its
Brave, healed face

With pins of guilt and remorse
Studding it in memory of how
It also became the cause of others' pain

That's my heart. Not so pretty,
Not perfect, not pure,
Yet it sits in my chest, beating away
Patiently, as if entirely sure
That any moment, its wait will end
Of someone who'll admiringly
Imbibe all of its stories,
Ease away all the tense knots,
View in awe all its glories

And let its inadequacies depart,
Completing them with closeness-
Smoothening their unevenness-
By merging with them,
Heart to heart

Nobody really knows
Which, if any, way the wind blows.
Drifting by on fading dreams,
All for one, no time for teams.
Days gone by when we flew high on vapors not of rolling papers but of our playful youthful capers, daring mates as daylight tapers.
Now the times have changed for ill,
When all we praise is Dollar Bill.
Robots set on cruise control,
But what's the purpose, what's the goal?
When the dam will burst at last, cleansing all that was our past,
We'll have the life and riches, too,
But what's the point when you're not you?

They say time heals wounds. I’m still waiting for the time that hearing your voice won’t make me feel like there’s an elephant in my throat. I’m still waiting for the time that seeing your face won’t make my heart scream for you, ripping its own seams in the process. I’m still waiting for the time when passing you by won’t make me weak at the knees, won’t make my spine shiver and my lungs suffocate.

They say time heals wounds. How will my wounds heal when the knife is still in my back, when the bullets are still in my chest? How will my wounds heal when whenever I remember to live, your memory pours salt on my cuts? How will my wounds heal when you haven’t even returned what’s left of my heart yet?

They say time heals wounds. Does that mean that I won’t see your face whenever I close my eyes? Does that mean that I won’t find you in every song I listen to? Does that mean I’ll stop hugging myself to sleep at night, feeling homesick for you? Does that mean I’ll be able to love again? and how will I ever love again, when I often find my soul wandering in the places our love was born, searching for you?

I drew a line in the sand
Hoping it would stay
But I watched the tide take it away

The water reclaimed its land
As I saw my boundaries come crashing down
While my pride began to drown

A fragile mark made by my hand
I lost control of my actions
Only to be fueled by passion

My mind is lost at sea trying to find its way back
But it's hard to stand on solid ground
When the lines are being washed away and drowned