in fond remembrance

the burden of your eyelash,
lies heavy.

too heavy for me to carry,
alone.

i use it as a bookmark now.
carefully marking the chapters,
in our holy book.

i visit it sometimes.
i read the other chapters.

and then i read,
the most important one.

the one captured in your fallen,
but not forgotten,
eyelash.

sometimes i touch it,
reverently.

it still feels wet.

alphabets, words,
sentences, meaning,
of the story,
made blurry.

i try to remember,
did it fall,
when you were crying,
your happy tears?

if so,

i try to remember,
why then is the story,
of the eyelash,
titled as sorrow?