Everyday I come home
I forget your absence
I open the door
To an empty shell
Which reminds me of
There are no hugs
And deep sighs
The couch is cold
Without you on it
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
I am but a memory of
You and me
Are there days in your calendar
That are empty?
Are there thoughts so loud in your head
That refuse to let you sleep?
Are there lists with little check-boxes
That taunt you?
Are there hours and days and years
That were swallowed anonymously?
Are there others with lives and dreams and achievements
That make yours seem small?
Are there any traces of the child and the teenager
That you once were?
Are there ways to change the heart
That won’t wound you and bleed you to death?
Are there words within you, deep within you
That have forgotten how to be born through your hand?
Are you there anymore?
Do you exist?
A bag full of words were never enough
To fill the lines of my notebook
I need to know the secrets of stifled laughter
The tears that flee at the brush of a hand
The voices that ring with fervour
And the anger that burnt an entire city bare
These words I have lack in flesh and blood
I’d like to discard them, but
Not even the vultures will seek them
I need a device to pump life into them
To drill their reluctant innards
To scoop their filth and fill them with
An overflowing light.
Light that is smoky like ice gone dry
So cold, that they burn a hole
Through the minds that read them.