Nupur Chaturvedi

Eviscerate

A figment of my imagination
Or something real, tangible
I don’t what to call that moment
When you left.

It must be real, for you are not there
It must be real, for the room is empty
And the curtains blow in the wind of wishes
I stand there, looking around for traces
That suggest you were there
A comb with one strand of hair left behind
A book dog-eared on the page you narrated to me
A necktie still twisted in the Prince Albert knot you had mastered
You were there.
You are here.
Right now.
So it must be my imagination.

But I stand here
Eviscerated by the loss
Of you
Of us.