“I understand how you feel.”
Echoes from the whispers
“I understand how you feel.”
Gets digested by my ears
He glances at me, sitting
Uninvited on our couch
He is so comfortable,
I can tell he’s been here before
When he speaks
I fall victim to the life
We nurtured together
And your presence creeps on me
From every angle
Sitting face-to-face with him
I ask him,
“What do you want?”
His stare is grim and cold,
Colder than when
I toss and turn to your empty side of the bed
His stare is grim and cold,
He takes a note,
In a diary that carries the parts
Of a lump in my throat, that still
Leeches on all the syllables
To have ever left your beautiful lips
He grabs my hand gently,
he has your touch, he has your scent
When he lets my trembling hand go
The weight of the brown frame
Next to our couch continues to protect
Crushes all the five stages
They were supposed to heal
A story fate owes a different ending,
Untimely and unjust,
He finally speaks,
“I am sorry for your loss.”
He is an artist, published poet and a published short story writer.