The Armchair
Sometimes when I am free
I would sit down in that armchair
The one that could fit both you and me
The one where you used to hug me in
Where you used to caress my cheek
Where you used to play with my hair
Where I giggled in shivered delight
As you stole breathless kisses from my lips
Whenever my mother was not looking
How wrong we were then!
My mother, she would be in the kitchen behind
Busy with onions, ginger, garlic
And I remember that sometimes
You would stand up from the armchair
Walked to the kichen to steal a piece of meat
Freshly stewed from my mother's hot wok
In that armchair I would smile to myself
As I overheard my mother and you laughing heartily
"Like mother and son," I used to think
Oh, but how stupidly wrong was I then!
Sometimes, now I remember
As I hug my lonely knees to myself
As broken tremors that shake my entire body
Would push the tears out of their endless wells
I would remember the many movies
That we watched together in that armchair
The drops that fell as the hero left the heroine
In romantic tear jerkers and silly action fares
You used to tell me, "I'll never leave you,"
How good you are at lying!
Sometimes, times like this
As I lean against my armchair
I remember the feeling of leaning against you
The feeling of telling you "I love you"
Was it any different from now?
Now with this knowledge that this is really true
This realisation that I truly love you
And this acceptance of my failed reality
We were once so deeply in love
And now that's all that's left of me.
A witness to my own sad tale
That armchair has now become
Sometimes I try, how I try
To forget the scent you left behind
Forget the broken promises you whispered
Into my naïve, willing ears to hear
Most of the time I become helpless
As flowing streams drown my shattered spirit
The armchair just remains empty
As empty as I am today.
~Wrote this a little while ago, on plain paper, and tears were flowing down my cheeks. Its the last time I cry, I hope.~
