Not a cliche (part 2)

You were a memory
stronger, stranger and sweeter

than all my memories combined.

And even though that's a
clichéd thing to say,
there was nothing clichéd
about reading with you, precariously
perched
atop your balcony ledges,
listening to page after page
unfurl
and footstep after footstep run
then pause, and hover
in search of companions
only to run again to
unknown destinations. 

Today, when I have left,
having gathered
learning beyond what my mind
could measure,
may I thank you
for all the ways in which
you've mattered?

And pluck from each brick, each leaf,
each gulmohar petal,
each lecture, each trip, each bunk,
each canteen table,
memories to last me a lifetime?

And even though fishing for memories
is a clichéd way to be,
there was nothing clichéd
about what you mean to me.

You were a memory
stronger, stranger and sweeter
than all my memories combined.

And you were not a cliché.

(For the best place with the best memories; for SRCC)

Education

Simple Scribble # 10

Leave

Pack up everything that belongs to you
And leave.
Don't leave me with keepsakes.
Just leave.

Gather the memories you left
In the crevices, corners, folds of my being.
Dust the places of me
you left parts of yourself in.
And leave.

Look for your favorite colour in my paintings
And your favorite songs in my playlist
And your movie recommendations in my browser history.
Extract them.
And leave.

Don't forget to pick up
Your books that line my over crowded shelves.
And planned birthday presents for every year till you turn
twenty four. 

Rip away the pages of my diary
That smoke with the ashes of your name.

Help yourself to the make believe world
I crafted for us.
But, remember, half of it
still belongs to me.
Leave me with mine.
Take yours.
Then, leave. 

You are free to share it
with somebody beautiful.

Let light illuminate the jagged edges
Of my broken pieces.
I don't need you to put me back together. 
Just take what is yours
And i will help myself.
Leave.

Take away the stories you told
The poetry you wrote
Take it all away, my wishes upon 

imaginary shooting stars
And single strands of eyelashes
And coins tossed into decrepit fountains-
What wish would they fulfill,
When they can't keep me from wishing?

Pack those wishes away in your luggage
So that I can trust myself to
Believe in promises, once more.
Then, leave.

I don't have enough space
In my closet, bedroom, slam book,
heart, soul and mind
To accommodate the two of us. 

I don't have the strength
To listen to unsaid words
Nor the intellect
To weave the threads of meaning around them.
Leave.

I don't need you to mess things up-
I am an expert at that, already.
I don't need advice, patience, practice, sighs
Love isn't a drug good enough
To cure me. 

Take all your love back.
Maybe someone will have use
For all your kindness.

Please.

Leave.