Ice Cream and Tears

It meant the whole world when you asked if I wanted ice cream. I wanted a cup or even a bowl of it but I said, “No.”

It feels strange that I could not articulate my thoughts now. I am in the right condition to write: slightly tired from reading, listening to a good music, right time, but not crying. My best pieces are those I wrote while crying. I will never tell which ones I cried over, in spite of the revelation that I am not crying now.

I dreamt of hiding my heart

Somewhere away from your beating

Planned on cleansing my mind

Spotless from memories

Only to realize that the best way

Is to take my eyes to the desert

Where even a single oasis

Does not exist

Memories with you have always led me to tears. But my eyes are dry now, even while trying to remember that ice cream or your eyes that told everything, or how you bowed down to offer because I was lying on the floor, or how you whispered to my ear to ask if I wanted some, and how I whispered back to deny, and how you stood up again and went away. I am not saying I have forgotten the feelings. I have not, or probably, never will. It feels stranger than fiction now how not a single drop of tear would fall.

I used to ask myself “When would the tears stop falling?” but now I am clueless why they did.