poetry

When it ends

And when conversations end
I’ll still come home to you
merely acknowledge your presence
in the corner of the room
as I throw away my bag
jump into the bed
as you play the sarod
you pull the strings
nonchalantly one after the other
as my eyes flutter
lips quiver
nose crinkles
and my hands tremble
hair flies
to the breeze
in the sultry heat
my toes curl;
My dead eyes
set on yours
as they sparkle
they fill mine with sight
and I laugh,
you look away
as waves crash
horns blare
but there’s quiet
in the house,
the lights flicker
as thunder strikes
I moan
as you hum
And I gasp
you run your fingers
on the strings
as breeze quickens the pace;
and it pours
as I weep
and papers fly
but you stay put on your sarod
and I on the bed
when conversations end.

1 thought on “When it ends”

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