furniture

there's no meaning 

in holding power ,

when your words 

can not afford it,

staying up late till 

you reach home ,

you curse me to 

ruin your fancy life,

trust me, i had served 

you the favourite wine

but you dodged me .

even neighbours have

stopped knocking at 

our doors in the evening,

even cradles in our 

backyard stopped dreaming 

to play with a toddler soon,

even clergy of this town

stopped blessing you to

save purity of my prayers.

look at my state now,

i've fossilized myself 

into a kind of decaying 

furniture of our home,

over which you place 

your torn clothes,

your unread books,

your black tea cups ,

your old, used posts,

and everything i gave 

while serving you 

but you proclaimed,

"stop being mean now!"

i smell you in

the dust and smoke,

whirling in the room , 

you hear me in

the cries and echoes

reverberating around,

we still sit across 

six feet apart to dine in

the greige coloured hall,

so, decayed furniture 

and a vigorous man

living a life devoid of life.

- chetna 🌻