By Atipriya Singh
My door was closed that night,
not locked, just closed.
But I kept my windows open wide,
so the stale air could find its way out.
It was a full moon night.
My room was lit up in a pale glow.
He snuggled into my lap like a child.
I massaged his hair, soft and slow.
All at once he said,
"My parting desire is to behold you in a black sari, the one I gave you on our anniversary."
With that, he faded into loss,
and in panic, I broke into sobs.
Sleep shattered and I woke.
A restless storm within me rose.
My eyes darted here and there,
but found his presence nowhere.
Tangled deep in disorientation,
snapped back into realization.
Two worlds apart can never meet.
When both are loyal, God cheats.
The space holds our moments,
nothing has changed.
Everything stood still,
right where they remained.
The books held our piquant memories.
The curtains hung like faithful sentries.
Chair and table, the devoted pair,
holding space for the talks we shared.
But cruel time waits for none—
not the moon, nor the sun.
As time went on, I sunk into gloom.
My fragments were shattered across the room.
But I gathered my pieces to meet his last urge,
draped the sari with tears at the verge.
Ah, I was losing him.
Everything had vanished far above.
I cast an eye at the empty side of the bed,
and found only the phantom limb of love.
The phone rang, sudden and sharp.
My swollen eyes flared apart.
I sprang to my feet to reach the call.
Truth stood bare like a crack on the wall.
It was my mother on the other side.
Her silence spoke what words denied.
It took every ounce of courage to answer,
but a lump rose in my throat.
A shiver crept into my hands,
and my breath nearly broke.
I forced out the words,
"What happened, Ma?"
Her voice came soft in a drastic sway.
She said, ''He left us... till doomsday.'"