Let’s let the walls remain bare.
Let’s not play any music in the background.
Let’s not come wearing fragrances,
Let’s just meet here,
And nowhere else.
So that when you go away,
I wouldn’t be stunned by places,
Smells, ideas and melodies,
Into the torture of your absence.
The crushing truth of it,
Death of hope.
I would just have me
To remember you by.
©Rasagya Kabra, March 13, 2012
"A certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect" ~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore