Dregs

It is not ghosts who haunt castles,

dead have no use for places

that stretch beyond where they quietly lie.

 

It is you and I

with our living, writhing memory

that haunt people and places

that have left us

 

As our minds buzz

with the thoughts and words,

even kisses:

soft, hush, and stolen.

 

You walk past the door,

half-broken

and you will stalk slowly past

the corridors where you still taste

our warm breath in the winter air.

 

You will, day in and day out,

long for the gay laughter

we shared with many a friend after

a fashion we fashioned ourselves.

 

About the Author:

Aswin is a poet from India. His creative writing has appeared in the Deccan Chronicle and two anthologies: Po’try and Shakespeare Sings. A few of his poems have appeared in online publications including The Tribe Journal, The Sunflower Collective, The Brown Critique, and The Yellow Chair Review.