Pieces

I have four sketches pinned on my board

And three photographs, and one birthday message

Remnants of a time long past; relics, dare I say

Taking me back to a place I no more remember

A chocolate wrapper is stuffed deep within my wallet

And a crumbling note, and a beautiful face

And a train pass, a wristband, a business card

A treasure greater than all the valuables it resides with

My closet hides inside itself, a jar of hearts

My books weigh down on a letter

My drawer is brimming with reminiscent souvenirs

My heart, full of paradoxical desires

Life, like literature, is a free verse of its own

Lacking in rhyme and reason, devoid of pattern and poise

A journey and a destination, all at once; synchronized chaos and calm

An assortment of seemingly disconnected fragments

Which when followed, bring you as close as they take you apart