I feel it too much
those lines I highlight in my current novel,
the black necklace somebody gifted and forgot,
dried sunflower still in a glass full of water,
my apron’s pocket full of herbs by my mother,
those coffee breaks where I miss my best colleague,
my journal’s empty pages where I scribble and scribble until it holds nothing.
I feel it all, in the darkest of hours or in the crack of the dawn.
Feelings stick with me like a leech who eats you up. I wish I could feel less. But then I think I would probably live less.
©kanikachugh