Hour 18 – Whitewashed

Take me to a whitewashed house

with pristine floors and

spotless sheets that hold

no ancient maggi stains

spilled on horror movie nights

where the mattress has never bore witness

to our pillow forts and fist fights.

Take me to a house where

the walls don’t echo

hushed giggles and ghosts

of conversations that

carried on through the night

where the doors have no chips

from indoor cricket and wrestling matches.

I can picture the kitchen too

gleaming white marble

a fancy counter top

a far cry from the dull, grey slabs

that were audience to mom’s hums.

I need a shower that has never

mocked my renditions of

Backstreet Boys or given me

the privilege of privacy

that was hard to come by.

Oh! take me to a house

where the light enters unencumbered

by shadows of the past for

they belong only in my old home

that has withered away

with my memories within.

 

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