Sorrows

They don't ask questions, nor seek answers, they simply rest on our eyelids like a thin layer of sunlight; where no one can see, but we feel their warmth every day

Sometimes it feels like sorrow lives within us like some nameless deity silent, patient, present in every heartbeat like a mute memory. Sometimes, grief is like unfulfilled love like the memory of a withered flower, which we have sealed away like time between the pages of a book so that it may remain fragrant forever

Some griefs are like mothers they only know how to give, without saying a word, without ceasing And when we break down, they sit at our bedside in the deep silence of the night, like an alliteration, flowing like a lullaby