I burned my feelings into ashes
with the dry ice in my heart,
from the chills you bestowed upon me.

Those ashes I saved and kept them
in a box, I sealed it and
named it "Past".

The bubble of hope died and
my feelings vanished into thin air-
or I wished.

I took Past and I painstakingly
dug at hole, so deep
at the bottom of my heart.

That's where the Past shall stay,
where you shall be,
where this love strives to persist.

I've got visitors,
Frequent regular visitors.

They drop by as and when,
sometimes it depends on mood,
sometimes the weather,
sometimes some words that trigger,
sometimes some photos,
sometimes some scents,
sometimes silence.

I can't control the frequencies
nor the intensities.
I can't control how long the stay,
nor how much stays after.
I can't control the mood it brings
nor what follows.

I can't control our memories
They visit me.

Because it's never about the pain,
It's about what causes the pain.

Because it's never about the end,
It's about what leads to the end.

Because it's never about the wait,
It's about what's worthy of the wait.

Because it's never about you,
It's about what I feel towards you.

Because,
The pain will end and
I will wait for you.

F ate is when we go
A way from each other only to come back
T ogether stronger and continue staying together for
E ternity and whichever comes after.

Your explanations -
Truthfully dishonest.

Your rationality -
Crazily sane.

My character -
Recklessly patient.

My feelings -
Despairingly hopeful.

Our love -
Simply complicated.