I was going through my photo albums
and I chanced upon the photos of us.
I saw photos of us before it all began.
I remember a mixture of happiness and unpredictability
for I was threading on uncertain ground
and then there was
that tinge of sadness for what I had previously lost...
but that tinge was of course hidden, masked away in the
joy and excitment of it all but it was still there nonetheless
on the surface of my skin.
I also saw the photos after it all happened.
I remember with a heavy heart
the sadness captured so perfectly in my eyes,
the salty tears that fell
that rolled from my checks
creating tracks of bitterness.
I remember the pain in my heart which was so intense
the pain that choked me
that shrivelled my insides
and I think back and wonder why I put myself through it all.
Why I allowed myself to feel this way.
I then flipped through the photos that followed thereafter.
I remember so vividly the amalgamation of emotions,
see-sawing precariously between happiness and sadness,
hope and despair, euphoria and emptiness.
The dreams that floated right before my eyes
the ones that I kept away secretly in the recesses of my heart.
And now, I cannot bear to see the photos anymore.
I am keeping them away again for another day when I am stronger.
Or for the day when you return to me.