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richasmukherjee.com

love, laughter, pain, joy, life and its lessons, one word at a time

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Poem

A faint sound


I remember how your hearty laughter always filled up a room.

How the cadence of those feet coming home would dispel a whole days worth of gloom.

I spent many nights wrapped in the comfort of those familiar snores.

How that tiny sigh would escape your lips as we hugged, making me crave for just one more.
The doorbell, phone and the neighbours now are used to my disdain. 

The deafening applause after our favourite shows, is soundless, like a shriek unheard in deafening rain.

After you’ve poured your tiring day into my uninterested ears,

It breaks my heart to see your eyes when I turn and ask ‘ How was your day my dear?’

I spend my days stalling, desperately trying to guess what’s been said.

I do my accounts of truly heard vs imagined words when at night I’m finally in bed.

Forgive me love. Your eyes I must forsake as your lips will now be my guide
.

Forgive me love. Your sweet nothings whispered have lost their way, this I can no longer hide
.

I know you wonder how I can be happy when I haven’t even heard much in a while.

I see you. I can still touch you. I remember these blessings, and that’s what makes me smile.

Stop

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It starts with a churn.
As if the insides of my stomach were a blender.
Knots are tied, tighter and tighter,
Butterflies crowd together flitting nervously.
And my heard thuds, listlessly. Like it’s run out of fuel and stranded on a lonely road
I’ve seen this enough haven’t I?
I’ve been here often enough haven’t I?
But why does watching you leave every time, feel like the first time, hurt as much as the first time. Maybe I don’t even remember the first time but I have a feeling it wasn’t pleasant.
I’ve often wished that dusty old suitcase, as you pull it down, would part with a handle.
Or that rusty zip would finally finally stop in its tracks.
Maybe the soul of that departing shoe could meet its maker.
Or even that sputtering engine of the shaky old taxi downstairs could decide to take an afternoon siesta?
But the world now knows not to indulge my silly fantasies.
Alas.
That handle will stand firm.
That zip will run its course.
The shoe will purposefully stride away.
That engine will be waiting for you, warm and ready.
You will plant a kiss on my cheek, hug me till my core feels warm,
And then say a casual ‘see you soon’ with a smile that hasn’t seen a day’s worth of gloom.
How I wish I could be that way.
Why must I be so sad about a phenomenon that is recurring yet has no true permanence?
To the cadence of your departing feet, I shut the door, clear the coffee mugs, send the butterflies home, telling them not to return till you return, and leave again.
Foolish, hopeless heart of mine.

Tongue tied!

 

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Damn! I did it again.
Or rather I didn’t!
Why won’t the right words come along?
It’s always a – Should I ? Or maybe I shouldn’t?
Just this morning,that nasty old woman had her say.
It wasn’t even my fault. I was going my merry way.
I muttered, I mumbled but the bloody words wouldn’t leave my mouth.
My thoughts played maudlin then merry, but despite all the coaxing, not one relented, not one came out.
Why is it that, what you should have said, always comes sailing in as a lazy afterthought?
Leaving you mulling and staring into your soup,
Wondering who is it today that is having the last laugh?
Now that the opportunity is lost, I have many versions to spare.
If only he could hear my thoughts now, he wouldn’t ever again dare.
Now I’ve practiced and practiced, so much and so well that Shakespeare would be proud.
I have the right expression on my face, and finally the right words, but alas!that nasty old woman is lost in the crowd!

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