Coffee disappointed me today;
Maybe I put more milk,
It doesn’t match your eyes today.
You’re there, in every corner of the room;
Lingering on the mahogany table like a stubborn stain;
On the perfectly made side of the bed;
In the broken gramophone that you bought;
In the over-read old copy of your Murakami;
Staying put on the unfinished painting in the balcony;
Like a cavity in my body that refuses to replenish;
Like a broken tile in middle of a perfectly paved footpath;
I look for you in everyone;
And I manage;
Even in the person who stands north when you’re south.
But you’ll always be here;
Like that one gap which spills things over when filled;
You’ll always be here.