I used to hang out with those carpenters
They took pleasure in sculpting out emotions
One of them... I have faint memories... 
He was quiet. He used to sit alone in one corner
Busy making some weird emotion
Others thought it was a variant of jealousy... or anger... or love... or hatred
I never put in a thought, emotions weren't in vogue all that much
He probably liked me, he'd told his friends he was making something for me

He took plenty of afternoons... afternoons particularly cold and windy, but silent ones... just like him
Time passed
Yes, even back then, time would pass

My family was shifting to another town far far away
My friends found me rumors... that he was still making that emotion
Carefully carving it out through my childhood, my puberty...

That day when our family was migrating
I really couldn't control myself
One last visit
I really wanted to know what it was he had been making me

Orphan boy, no one to fill his belly as he whiled away in love with me
Making me the choicest of emotions probably
There he sat
Without a breath
His hand dug into a piece of wood
Moist, wild, beautiful
That was the emotion he wanted for me

I can't name it because he did not tell me the name
My first unrequited, he

But his gift...
I have it
I carry it in me everyday
In my bag, in my eyes, in my womb,

Probably no man shall ever touch me the way he did
Through time, beyond time

I'm still carrying it
From ages ago, when I wasn't born yet
But I don't have its name.