EMPTY PENS...

these used and empty pens some with caps and caps amiss

oh, there are packets on the floor chocolates, noodles, and chips

and whose bottle is that one I recognize it, and I don’t

sitting like a gangsta, amidst the cups and spoons that I stole

slippers a piece each from different pairs one with the kit-kat wrapper I bought last week

these posters on the walls and a messy “wardrobe to be.”

the laptop plugged in on the table with hundreds of tabs, new and old

an unwashed kettle of delicacies lobby’s all-purpose stove

why are oregano packets not with pizza decorated with my facewash and sunscreen

t-shirts with my name every corner that I see

these tangled wires and the boards which may zap me again

that one earpiece from a pair which might have been used in last May

there won't be gatherings anymore no more UNO games to be played.

what’s this strange feeling of “I wish I could have stayed.”

these used and empty pens so many stories they have inked

room 162 B1 I will remember you for the many lives that you have seen.