Tag Archives: memory

With(out) You

Everyday I come home
I forget your absence
I open the door
To an empty shell
Which reminds me of
Your presence

There are no hugs
And deep sighs
The couch is cold
Without you on it
Smiling your
Come to me smile

My words are meaningless
For they aren’t answering
Your endless questions;
My jokes are bereft of
Your scandalized chiding
And my walls are silent
Without your echoing laughter

My city of a decade
Seems alien without you
The roads are barren
With snow and without you
Even the river isn’t flowing
Without your love

Within a year you’ve become
So much more to me
The magic of my days
The reason behind my work
The answer to my prayers
The life in my life
And in these days away
From you
I am but a memory of
You and me

I have…

I have your number and a phone without numbers to dial

I have your picture and an empty album

I have your voice and ears without their facility

I have your clothes and a body that fails to hold them

I have your breath and some skin that lies dead

I have your flowers and some stalks with prickly thorns

I have some tears and eyeballs that have dried up

I have more of my love and no more of your demands

I have myself and the knowing that you aren’t mine anymore





Insulted, my memories left my mind
Hurt, they left like heads of men
Hung in shame…like the silence
Of distant evenings
Their only revenge being my ignorance
And solitude…
I search with conviction for moments
I believe unforgettable;
I write down words in paranoidal faith
I remember, while not knowing, what
My mind chose to betray me.

The beautiful black edged book

The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes. The book I wouldn’t put down. Till I turned the last black-edged page of the book narrating a story in such incompleteness it s left me a legacy of goose bumps and something i might today define as the feeling you get when your mind has been read. Somehow.
Hasn’t happened in such a long while.