The air is sometimes foul
The air is sometimes fresh
But the instruction is always to breathe
The man in my life
Left without saying farewell
He went as if he would return
I'm still waiting
His return but his silhouette
Never entered the doorway
His scent crept away with time
His place at the table is vacant and undisturbed
Everything is left the way he liked
No one dared sit in his seat at the head of the table
I won't allow it to happen
Our only time-honored memory is the day he left
The same day his hands stop being safe
Within arm's length of a ringing ear
I can't seem to pass that day
I'm starting to fit his clothes
And he is yet to knock or call
Although we share the same space
I guess he ain't coming back
The Novice Poet