Never Coming Home

Not bothering with "I'm home,"
As I step in through the door.
The apartment is half empty,
Leaving room to explore.

The bedroom is half drained,
Missing the smell of cologne.
One less pair of slippers,
And one pillow sitting alone.

No cell phone on the desk,
And the bedside light is gone.
The TV is left turned off,
And the bathroom light not on.

Stepping in, I sniff the air,
No smell of aftershave or AXE.
Nothing was out of order,
It was clean to the very max.

The dining room was fresh,
With everything in place.
Magazines stacked neatly,
Leaving such a huge space.

Turning on the computer,
Screen showing just one account.
And the internet history,
With half the amount.

Sitting there patiently,
With the phone in hand.
The silence becoming louder;
More than I can stand.

Falling back against the door;
I'm alone.
Taking in reality:
You're never coming home.
[c] 2O06 Mindy Huang