Little bits of fallout are scattered at my very feet.

Mingling with dust motes and spilt tears.

These little shards of time.
Whether, they were fragments of clocks & antique watches
or
the very iridescent pockets of dusty memories.

I am not sure.

Few things that I do know is,
please do not try to pick them up.

If you do, be careful, be cautious.
Hold your breath
if
you need to.

One little cut is the doorway
for
all
those creased and crinkled memories
to
tip-toe
in.

I did both.
I held you in my hands.
Wisps of your warmth flitted through my outstretched fingertips.

You flowed gently in my veins,
kissed my ribcage,
gently nudged my heart.

Then,
it
was
n o t h i n g.

I gasp on some days at this emptiness that fills me up.
The silence lends itself to hear my words;
the
truth.

I
           had
you
  in
the
dusty      
past.

The present is one my eyelids cannot close to,
not without your heart-beat saying
'I am here'
to
mine.

Little bits of fallout-
burnt and crinkled memories
mingled
with
shards
of
you
then
*me.