Sorting my stuff before moving to a new place

I found a box, full of things from a few years ago—

School's student body badges, metaphorical souvenirs and our old polaroids.

I've heard people go all 'we keep our love in photographs'

But we were never one of them.

Then why now?

Maybe because there is no 'we' left?

Or because it's not the same as earlier?

God knows. 

All I know is that what I could feel when I was looking through the stuff and strolling down the memory lane was angst.

I felt devasted seeing us holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes, realising it's no more the same.

At the same time I was happy and satisfied for what we had. 

I felt as much blessed to have you as a major part of my life as I felt alone since you aren't here.

I still remember the first time we made eye contact —sayings about the dramatic soft breeze felt true as everything slowed down.

And I still remember the last time we held hands.

Had I known it was the last time, I would have held you a little longer.

I would have kissed you little harder. 

But I didn't.

As I looked up into the mirror in front of me, 

I realised how much had changed.

I was not the guy smiling while holding his world in his hands, anymore

But the guy sitting in the corner, weeping while staring at a polaroid that reminded of a beautiful past.

And as another teardrop rolled down my cheek,

I realised the power of a polaroid that pushed me off the cliff of reality, into the abyss of nostalgia,

when all I did was just hold in hand, our old polaroid, in which we keep our love.♥️