Ghosts of our love.

I make the world’s best coffee.
I know this because you said it.
You said it because you meant it.
You meant it because you loved me.
You loved me why?

I stand here in my house – once what meant “home” – and shiver like a leaf
Because the enormity of this place seems terrifying without you and I feel I can’t do without my roots.

Walls shake as your laughter echoes, the defenses I had made come crumbling down
I can no more understand where to look for you – or not to – as my feet take me running round and round

My ears are ringing now with a voice that isn’t yours, my vision blurs with something that should be tears
My mind is on fire and my heart in a sea, and my room and its clock and its bed and its floor
And your pen and your shirt and your watch and your sheets
And your smiles and your eyes, and your eyes, and your eyes.

Then you come and hold me – out of where?
Whisper something soothing like a prayer;
Running your fingers through my hair, you hold my gaze and say: “darling, please take care”

I listen to you and sit down.
Cross my legs, bend my head, begin to count.
I notice that my breathing calms and the knots in my body do unknot
As your scent enters into me and your soul takes a spot.

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37 thoughts on “Ghosts of our love.

  1. novemberwinter says:

    I absolutely got lost in this. It’s highly poignant. But I think there’s a bit of comfort in sadness, a kind of comfort which separates you from the rest. Moreover, winters are approaching, and for me, being cold in coldness is a true gift of sadness which I think we all should feel. You’re an honest writer, your time will come, and when it comes, you’ll miss this melancholia. Thank you for sharing this wonderful piece (:

    • randomlyabstract says:

      Hey Hamid.
      I got lost in it too, when I was writing it. It was…good. I am glad you like it.
      Also, I think I treasure that even now; I believe in the process. Thank you for your kind comment. (=

  2. muhammad sarosh says:

    When you visit your father’s home which once upon a time was home to your mother too, every act you do there is an act of remembrance and a eulogy to the old times. Thanks for the poem. I cant comment on the literary devices but your poem resonated really HARD with me.

  3. WordBug says:

    I wasn’t looking for anything when I started reading. In fact I don’t even know how I got here. But I am glad I did. I loved this post and I look forward to reading more when time permits! Keep writing! πŸ™‚

  4. Falak says:

    Allaahhh
    its the little things that will always make you cry and remind you of a million memories. its simple and heartbreaking. bittersweet. beautiful.
    Love these lines:
    “And your pen and your shirt and your watch and your sheets
    And your smiles and your eyes, and your eyes, and your eyes.”
    The smells and the smiles and the eyes… how they can make the most comfortable of places, make you feel empty and lost.

    • randomlyabstract says:

      Thank you! ❀ So much.
      I personally liked those lines too.
      Always the little things… (Can I tell you I love your comment? I read it more than once. This and the one on Tumharay Naam. And like I said, it was great to see you here.)

  5. Hiba says:

    I can read your blog again and again, it blows me away every time.
    Yes, I’m stalking your blog πŸ˜€
    And I have fallen in love with it all over again.
    You have beautiful thoughts, Maria πŸ™‚

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