• Home •

I came home to a room; no more mine
With an empty bed and a blanket
Lying leisurely and the corners
Of which; are still damp with our
Memories.
That failed to hold the fibres
That stitched your skin,
Bones and nails together.
The strands of clothing
That once draped the floors,
The table, a muck of bookish mess
And the coffee mug
That still remains lazily unwashed.
A room once home,
With the unadjusted inexcusable bed,
Once our centre of gravity.

But beside my head still lies you,
In fragnance, woven in an old shirt,
Fabric feels of how your
Cheeks feel against mine
And a smell that assures that
Tomorrow is another day closer to you.
And that’s how i will
Always come home to you.

- Barkha