Emptiness

He reached out,
hoping to find the familiar touch of skin
curled up on the other side of the bed.
It was empty.

The morning light came in through the blinds,
and he called out her name,
but silence was all that echoed back.
Even the soft light hurt now,
bringing in memories that were filled with
stale breaths and warm bodies
periodic alarms and repeated snoozes
and the intoxicating scent of a woman –
A woman he loved.

He got out of bed,
getting ready to drudge through another day.
There was no waiting in line
to decide who goes in first,
or the liberty to shower together
and sneak in a few kisses
as she fussed over the optimum water temperature.
Her used toothbrush still lay beside his,
as a reminder of what was,
and what could have been.

There was nobody
to scold for putting her legs up on the dashboard.
There was nobody
constantly bickering about his choice of songs.
There was nobody
whose laughter filled up the confines of the car.
There was nobody
to bid goodbye to
Anymore.

The phone didn’t beep,
pouring in angry texts
but somehow there was still a lack of peace.
A restlessness had crept in,
A restlessness that seemed to grow,
A restlessness he was yet to make peace with.

Loneliness and solitude are separated
by only a fine line,
but he always wondered where companionship belonged.
If it mitigated loneliness
or threatened solitude?
She taught him though,
that both can have
A peaceful co-existence.
But she didn’t say
that her presence would become a habit
and the once happy loner
would seek the old lanes
hoping to find a trace
of the girl
whose impulse might have driven her back to the same corner.

The sun went down,
and another day went by,
Without her.
The bartenders served him his favorite.
The music was loud, and the beer cold.
Familiar faces around to lighten up his mood.
Yet,
No tipsy figure to firmly hold onto,
No sincere eyes looking back,
No drunken dancing and mindlessly forgetting steps.

There was a substitute tonight,
for the other side of the bed,
But she preferred the pillow
over his shoulders.
She didn’t groan in her sleep,
or clutched him tighter
as the dreams turned to nightmares.

Her nose didn’t have
the tiny black dot
he loved kissing.
And her face
didn’t exude the calm
that his presence brought.
This she was not that she.
That she
had left.
And that is what still kept him awake.