I Return Home

I return home..‍

To the undone dishes in the sink,
Your forgotten t-shirts in the laundry,
Broken vase that you glued together,
And my constant state of quandary.

I can still spot a strand of your hair
in the folds of the quilt
And the impressions on the mattress
From when you left in a jilt

I return home…

To the stains of last night’s wine
On the spotless yellow bed sheet,
To your toothbrush in my washroom
And my anxiety that I can’t seem to defeat.

To the book on my nightstand
Dog-eared on the page you planned to resume,
And to that pressed flower within
That you planted in my hair last bloom

I return home…

To the ashtray
Still smoky from the last cigarette we had.
To the room that still holds your smell
From so many summers glad.

Your side of the bed
Still has impressions from when we last stayed
And my skin still stands testament
To the palpable love that we made

I enter…

And sit on the couch quietly
It’s only been 10 years, there’s a 100 more to go

And suddenly, it hit me…

You are the paperweight in my drawer
The beautiful painting on the wall posit
My favourite carpet on the floor
An ink stained shirt in my closet…

You were always a gloating conscience
A looming presence, mirage of sorts…
Only present in traces
never consistent or held your forts.

You were always here yet you were never there!