Petrichor

Your arrival to my heart 

Was what a petrichor to

A droughty land.

As it gently fills every single 

Particle in the air with its sweet aroma,

So did you, filling every corner of 

My heart with love which had been 

Left exsiccated for a lengthy time.

Although I no more love rains but 

With you, I was a pluviophile.

Standing on the balcony and

Listening to the celestial melodies of rain,

I used to spend hours.

And my beloved rain, in return,

Would every time gift me the

Splendid scent and I would 

Scribe numerous poetry out of it.

Ironically, the rain never promised me 

To stay but it did, whereas you didn't, even after uncountable promises.

My heart was simply a graveyard

Which buried thousands of emotions merely with the dead love

And you attempted to exhume them 

Just to add your memories to them 

And left them unburied afterward.

No, this poem is not a recollection

Of those memories neither a 

Heartbreaking note to you 

But a testimony that my heart 

Is capable enough to carry

Each article that the universe offers,

No matter how much dismal it feels.

Today, when the first rain of the season has visited, the petrichor, after the rain 

Comes with an affirmation again 

That not all lover unlearn their beloved, 

Some stay for eternity,

Some love forever.