The dressing room mirror still waits to see us dress together.
My wet hair still waits for your fingers to comb it down.
The way you dig your face in my neck,
still keeps me awake at night.
I still wait to smell your skin,
the smell of your aftershave still lingers around the basin…
though it been years no one used it.

You were not there when I was suffering attacks,
not even when “bhai” got married,
not even yesterday, when I was crying all alone,
you were not there to hold me tight last night,
when I was awoke by the thunderbolt.

The radio still plays old love ballads,
only our dances together were missing…
The shower still waits to see us bathe together,
the silence around us waits to be disturbed by the sound of our bodies.
The love bites round my neck healed after a day,
but the wounds in my soul refuses to.

I still wait to be kissed, to be hugged,
there are many letters I wrote to you,
only I did not know where to post,
for you never returned after you were declared dead
that wintry night in the hospital.