Still Intact Poem by deepanshi sabnani

You are still intact in the space
Between my ribs,
Like a room I've sublet and do not care
When the tenant sleeps,
You're beautifully packed and kept in the bottom drawer
Of the leftmost shelf right against the wall,
So that if seldom I find you
It's too tedious to undo the laborious packaging,
You're kept like a painting in my storeroom
Moistened by the endless rain,
And I'm waiting for the October heat
To take you out and put to dry,
You are like the contact book
From the eighth grade, I know I have but I don't need
Because the numbers and addresses
Have long been changed,
You are the long-stemmed long-forgotten
Red rose in The Notebook
That leaves a permanent stain
On page number forty-two
Yet cannot be used as a bookmark,
And yet you are like the ink-spot
On my only childhood photograph,
At the corner of my left eye
So if I try to erase you
I'll lose a part of me.