When I caught him in bed with another woman; I asked him-Why?
He shrugged and said-"I am a warm-blooded man"
So I smashed his face and broke his nose; He asked me-Why?
I shrugged and said-"I am a cold-blooded woman"

there are stories in your feet;
chronicles of to and fro.
footprints - an appropriate name -
on pages of sand
and gravel
and stone
and clay
where have you been?
where did you go?
for I cannot read your steps
and I beg to hear your tales
and right now
I am parched for your words
sitting
alone on a crowded beach
with sand in my ears

Haunting me
From a corner on the floor
His t-shirt