i came across this post today—
it asked me if i wondered
what would be the best place to leave my heart—
even if it's bits and pieces, like shells in the sand.
made a list for my own peace,
but here to share it, if you seek to leave a piece
of your own:
the sea, people claim, carries the tranquil
and provides the cool;
the empty temples and churches,
where your heart prays and reluctantly admits;
graveyards at night,
protected by those who left their own behind.
libraries and dusty old bookstores,
in between the pages and caskets of the used shores.
sun-dappled shades of yellow, green, and orange—
once settled, the purples and pinks of the similar hues.
gardens of thorns and flowers,
the sleeves of your last lover;
knots of the willow trees,
in winter blues and heated blooms,
risky texts during the night,
with strangers i met online,
in midst of late monsoon showers,
not to miss out the midnight hours.
a few bits i leave
in the misty mornings of the early summer,
the drenched evenings of the spring shimmer.
the company of my closest companions—
in the fur of a cat,
the nip of a bunny,
the smile of a pup,
sometimes in a sunset,
in the lush green of the forests,
often in the foil of the autumn trees.
mostly on my bed,
in my tear-filled, forsaken pillow,
and against the one i sleep so dearly.
plushies and teddies,
keepsakes of childhood memories.
with all those i've met so far,
and cookie crumbles at the footstep of my life—
for those who are welcome
and those who are not.
i have left, and leave, a lot more pieces.
i wonder if my heart is a cake-a-piece.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 10:02 AM UTC
i came across this post today—
it asked me if i wondered
what would be the best place to leave my heart—
even if it's bits and pieces, like shells in the sand.
made a list for my own peace,
but here to share it, if you seek to leave a piece
of your own:
the sea, people claim, carries the tranquil
and provides the cool;
the empty temples and churches,
where your heart prays and reluctantly admits;
graveyards at night,
protected by those who left their own behind.
libraries and dusty old bookstores,
in between the pages and caskets of the used shores.
sun-dappled shades of yellow, green, and orange—
once settled, the purples and pinks of the similar hues.
gardens of thorns and flowers,
the sleeves of your last lover;
knots of the willow trees,
in winter blues and heated blooms,
risky texts during the night,
with strangers i met online,
in midst of late monsoon showers,
not to miss out the midnight hours.
a few bits i leave
in the misty mornings of the early summer,
the drenched evenings of the spring shimmer.
the company of my closest companions—
in the fur of a cat,
the nip of a bunny,
the smile of a pup,
sometimes in a sunset,
in the lush green of the forests,
often in the foil of the autumn trees.
mostly on my bed,
in my tear-filled, forsaken pillow,
and against the one i sleep so dearly.
plushies and teddies,
keepsakes of childhood memories.
with all those i've met so far,
and cookie crumbles at the footstep of my life—
for those who are welcome
and those who are not.
i have left, and leave, a lot more pieces.
i wonder if my heart is a cake-a-piece.
a bit old, mostly new- i keep on editing
what can i even do
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