Homeless

It is an assurance, I carry with myself. That you are home. That no matter what, when, who. If I would, I could leave everything be and run. With my eyes closed, like a child. Run into our enclosure of love. And you would be there, sitting with your legs stretched out of the window, or merely standing by it, looking at the rain. Doing laundry, or cooking, or quietly sitting, or taking a shower, leaving the door unlocked for me. From my footsteps you would know, it was me. Yes, lovers do that. And later act aloof and ask when did I get in. So many little games. Voices and visions. Fights and patches on scratches, balms on wounds. 

Now, I feel as if I haven't kept any memory. It's an honest confession, I don't remember the specifics, the details, the blur as you would say. I carry that time and that love absorbed in myself. Very involuntarily. Because I don't feel the need to create memories. Because, I know you are home. I can run to you any time of the day, and we could recreate our moments, the exact same way. Or give them a random swivel and yet they would be this maddeningly, intoxicatingly, mind-numbingly, fucking beautiful.  

But you know this juncture, honey. That home, we have to let go of. The walls, the roof, the strings, the mosaic. The smells, the sounds and a whole bunch of uncreated memories. Remembered only very faintly, for the decades to come. I wouldn't have that privilege to be with you in a moment, for a moment. You would no longer be in there. The cradle has vanished. I feel deranged, homeless again. And my heart, is skipping so many beats. Oh! Pandora. 

5 comments:

Prateek said...

Yeah, oh Pandora!

Enigma said...

I'm not sure if I understood the implication of the last two words. But I am connecting it with the idea of a swarm of emotions/ideas/memories being unleashed uncontrollably.

As always, a beautiful post. Reading it out loud always gives me the best experience. It foregrounds the narration against the backdrop of pictures rapidly forming in my mind.

Keep writing, please. :)

wildflower said...

Yeah, that's Pandora. Thank you for reading, and also for keeping the pictures running in the backdrop.. :)

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Sometimes, home IS a person :-)

Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete

wildflower said...

He is. :-)