The Place That We Once Called Our Home

Thud ! With tears rolling down my eyes, I pushed open the door.

A lifeless apartment stared back at me, and asked - "Hey ! Why are you back alone?".

Amid an abominable lull, I was greeted by creepy slimy beings – that had been nurturing on my rent,

Peevishly crawled out of the ramshackle wall cracks to greet me – a scent that they were unfamiliar of,

While the unkempt floor and stinking mat stood contrast to your compassionate presence –

I asked my lonely silhouette – is this that love-filled paradise that we once called our home?

Do you remember that chocolate wrapper that you had left behind in that closet corner?

A priceless treat in the middle of the night as we fooled around – binging on random flicks,

I picked it up not as a trash, but as your last souvenir left behind,

For your touch and smile are assets that I could never afford – I painfully realized,

But am not a trash-can born liable to withstand your deep inflicting abuse – as I reckoned,

I behold myself blessed to have never owned this vexed place - that we once called our home.

Dazed and confused, I searched for our bed to rest my dizzy head -

But I soon realized that you sold it off when you moved out in a fit of rage.

I sat on the floor exactly where it used to be…

Yes, this was the exact place where on weekends our love would play hide and seek.

With you gone now, I wonder whether leaving me was all that it was worth for,

I wonder was it my wife or co-tenant – who shared with me this place - that we once called our home.

Alas! now all is gone. All that is left behind are memories and blankets wrapped in dust -

Blankets that once covered our bodies, as we laid lazy with our bare torsos inter-twined like doves - 

Embraced in each other's arms, we slept on like love-birds– oblivious to the approaching storm,

With hope giving way to disgust, as days unceremoniously crept on,

Today, as I wiped my tears with your scarf, I clung on to our memories that in a haste, you left behind

As you moved out of this place that once used to be our sweet little vine.

But before I left, hopelessly just for one last time – I stared on –

At the kitchen with no one to light the oven; At the empty shoe rack with no heels on it,

At a pair of dirty wine glasses, a torn purse with a familiar handkerchief in it,

At the eerie silence that confirmed to me that we would soon be meeting in court for our separation,

As I left my wounds behind, I picked up my stuff and a scarred heart with a sigh of relief,

To never return to that obnoxious place that unfortunately we once called our home.