Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Things You Left Behind

There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature – Lawrence Durrell





Came home last night
to an empty house.
Stripped of all essentials.
Picked clean like a fish,
to the bone.

You cleaned out
pretty meticulously, like only
you can.
Furniture, furnishing, crockery,
linen, music system, washing machine,
cosmetics, the magnetic stickers on
the frig.
You even took the lone bindi,
from the bathroom mirror.

All that are remaining, are my
books, looking forlorn, and forsaken,
stacked against the wall.
Like stricken,
abandoned pets.


It’s like, you didn’t
want to leave behind, anything,
that might remind me of you, of our
love that we once had,
of the joys we shared.

But, you are wrong.
There are so many things,
you have left behind.

The long drives, drenched in
monsoon rains ,shivering
and sharing a cuppa chai,
in some remote dirt road.


The surprise Sunday mornings when I served
burnt toast and bland tea,
to your royal highness, in bed,
to your amusement,
and my consternation.

The musky amorous outings that
notch the bathroom door.

The night I drove to you,
from miles away, as you bled,
losing our only baby.

Or the days you nursed me
as I deliriously rambled from
some strange fever.

The times we went to plays,
browsed in book shops, or just
doodled on each others
passion spent, basking bodies.

These are the things you
left behind, indelibly etched
in me.

How I wish I were a bird , that
I can molt memories, and
begin afresh.

1 Comments:

Blogger bilbo said...

How I wish I were a bird , that
I can molt memories, and
begin afresh.


You said it.
Memories are unfortunately something we carry around forever. The only hope is that someday they'll stop hurting as much.

7:39 AM  

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