Under the shower, I scrub the sponge against my skin, a little too hard.I don’t want his trace, his smell. I don’t want to do anything with him.I’m not guilty, I should be, but I feel wildly free.I didn’t do anything wrong.
It hurt. Looking at her hurt.
There is a pretty moon up in the sky that is aloof and it looks down at all of us. I sometimes wonder if she and I are staring at it together.
Sitting by my window
I watch the fading sunlight turn into darkness,
Grey into city lights.
They say “home is where the heart is”. Many will go on to the extent of saying home and house are different. House refers to bricks and buildings whereas home contains people- people whom we call our family. This much we all know.
One fine day she woke up,
Things looked same not differing much.
Except a piece of paper,
Which sane people refer as Letter.
My lover used to say:
“I look for the sadness in people”.
He searched for sadness,
For the sunsets.
Now that he has left,
The sadness remains!