That Warm Place

sometimes its just a memory that fills a million future moments of emptiness. but we never know that when its being created. we always have to go back and look for it in the places of our minds.

I need some warmth right now. Maybe need is not the right word. I am craving it. Not just for the skin. But deep with in the soul. The kind that fills your soul with warm light. It's brightness surrounding it. The soul drinking from it to quench the craving thirst. 

So I open the rusted cupboard of my memories. It's creaking sound reminding me yet again to not go down the memory lane. The dust and webs inside start to cast their spell almost instantly. As if inviting me in a hurry, begging me to look inside before I change my mind. I guess it is too late now anyways. I am already hands down here, running my fingers through all the memories carefully tacked away. Hoping that someday the forgetfulness of dust will permanently make them disappear. 

I keep searching. For the one that will make me feel warm. Like the sun on a breezy day on my face. When you just want to soak and soak it more. And then just like that I find that comfort. I figure I have found the one. 

That little Italian place which used to be my favourite next to the place you used to get your freshly brewed beer first always. There, seated in the corner seat against the white wall on a table of two, opposite you. Talking about the week gone by and a few days ahead. Chewing on the bread and asking you to pass the olive oil. Ordering another glass of wine. 

This is my sun now. Making me shine in all the dark spaces inside of me.