I rent old houses
because just like me
they were once home
to someone,
and we both need
someone to make us
habitable again.

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[wan•der•lust] /n./
सफ़र का अनुराग
भाग-६

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eating a bowl of bland moments
for dinner, with silence settled
between our words,
for, I find the taste of home
in hands that can make
anything worth satiating
even with the mess of it all.


is the ingredient of love,
the absence of which
turns our sturdy home soggy,
and balls up in the back of my throat
like an extra helping of salted stillness,
so tart that it's impossible to swallow.

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A breeze that can be touched by heart..
A whispers that are aloud to the ears..
A safety traced it down in any spine..
A freedom of passion to press the lips..
A walk that betrays the shimmer attires..
A song sung is melodious with no tune..
A comfort nest that equals an entire world..
A memory commemorates a beautiful home..

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How about I tell you
to write a poem,
a poem just about now,


(Read Caption)

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Sometimes, you leave home.
Sometimes, the home leaves you.

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