Furniture of my Heart
the furniture of my heart are simple.
a twenty-one summers old
bookshelf full of humans i've read.
and inbetween the pages of some books are written love letters that i have been intending not to send.
a desk with a diary on it always open,
waiting to be filled impulsively.
where I sit on starless nights and make myself believe that I get to write my own story.
and on that desk ,there's always a
candle burning that smells of hope and
fireflies caught in mason jars glowing in possibilities.
there's a couch of old conversations,
its too comfortable to sleep on.
a bed of unmade bedsheets,
my dreams sleep on it.
the chest of drawers are filled with
kindness and hugs from people.
i often pull them out,
on the bad days
as a reminder of goodness.
there's a closet of full of lyrics
the ones I love to sing,
the ones I would someday love to sing.
the furniture of my heart are simple and in number, few.
in the rest of the spaces,
lives sunshine and smiles from strangers,
favourite people and places,
eye contacts and and fragrances.
About the poet:
Oindrilla Panja is a medical student and a strong believer in the healing power words have.
You can find her on Instagram @_oindrillapanja