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?
