As I sleep in my bed, some of the pain is left there, soaking my pillow.
Breeze carries traces of it away.
Water washes off some of it.
Sun burns bits off it.
Night sky calms and soothes it.
Hugs and kisses brush it off a little.
The words I write spill some drops of it on to the page.
My sighs disperse some of it in the air.
The tears sometimes wet my handkerchief with it.
At other times they hide behind my smiles and leave the pain strewn across rooms and crowds.
My mother’s fingers, lovingly running through my hair disseminate specks of it.

Does it ever lessen?

Yes. It lessens in the playfulness, that was Saagar.
It lessens in fun, jokes, laughter and music.
It lessens in the banter while playing Ludo or card games.
It lessens in lightness.
It also lessens in the awareness that it may never lessen.