After
all that
could have been said
was said.

And

all that
needn’t have been
was also said.

And

all that
ought have been
was not
said.

You left

Leaving
The clearing up
for me.
As usual.

So

I cleared out
Your leftovers.
First the letters
Then photos,
books, clothes, music

And

All else
You and me
gathered
over the years.
Baggage.

Till

there remained
not a shred of evidence
that you ever
stayed here.
Clean slate.
Not a trace
of you.
Free now
From you.
Everything
wrapped up.

Closure.

And

Just when
I thought I was
hermetically sealed,
your hair
entangled with mine
in the hairbrush.
laughed, mocked

And

Opened
the floodgates.
Of recollection.

Then
each object
every space
spoke
of when
we were together.

Memories
leftover that
I could not throw out.

And so,

Considering,

inter alia,

This little child
who sleeps oblivious
blissful, secure
and
unaware,
I leave the door
unlatched

Hoping

you remember
where we keep
our spare key.

Because

After all was said
and done,
perhaps
not enough
was said
and done.

© anjali purohit 2010

(this poem was read at the poetry festival at Kitab Khana, Mumbai, September 2013   here )