The Lie

By Bhavya Srivastava

Leaving the bed behind

Moving to the next chapter of my life

Searching through the files, looking for the lease 

All I found was a creased sheet

Crumpled yet intact

Fuzzy letters still leave an impact

Hurriedly written message with a deep seeded lie

“Gotta run, I’ll be back by nine”

The white tiles

The textured walls

Have now become a distant recall

The day starts with a coffee instead of the tea we shared

The night ends with a blue glare 

Left behind everything except that door made of Pine

I still leave it open for an hour at night ,around nine.

By Bhavya Srivastava