37. The photo

When it found him,
it was all dusty and drab.
Was going through his archives,
when he stumbled upon it.

It had a certain shine about it,
there was this certain gleam, an unexplainable glitter.
As he wiped the dust off it,
a whiff of numbness ensued.

It put him to wonder,
was this the same person ?
had it been so long?
could things have changed so fast?
‘Time heals’, was what he had firm belief in,
but all that seemed so trivial,
with this dark flash of memory.

Such a beautiful creation of nature;
he had wished she were his to be.
Composure eluded him for a moment,
and it was only a little later;
he realized why he had kept the photo,
in the place where it had been kept.
Never could he possibly fathom,
that just a picture could wreak such mindly havoc.

There was’nt a need to remember the good times,
the bad times outweighed them hands down.
There wasn’t a need to remember,
that she wasn’t here with him,
that things could have turned for the better,
that he could have taken the first step,
that she could have tried to understand
what his animated eyes had to say,
that….it really seemed endless.

Then came a voice from within
‘you’re yet to get over her. This will just make it harder’.

And so he put it back,
in the place where it so rightly belonged,
amidst the cobwebs and moth shells,
with the thought of never looking at it again.