The day after.

For all the choices
unpredictably comes the inevitable
sometimes softly
sometimes tearing havoc

No matter how long we contemplate
cry
ask why
we still have to go

and open the place
the cupboards
and face the skeletons
of the passed

clear away the effects
read the mail
unfold things
that should have been buried

smell the odours of life
and lingering perfume
of the person of relevance
once indispensable

hearing a laugh near
the voice still
seeing the face and the features
in the light, on stranger's bodies

For all the choices we make
we dont prepare
to be ready
at the time to remember the choices.

By Tasnim