absence

i wake up to the absence of your presence. no grief no sadness just a low-grade hum of awareness that you're not here. it's like a background noise a gentle buzz that i've learned to live with. i go about my day the routine of tasks and chores a distraction from the quiet ache of your absence. sometimes i catch myself thinking of you a fleeting thought that vanishes as quickly as it appears. in those moments i'm left with the echo of your name a whisper that hangs in the air like the scent of agarbatti on a cold morning. the city outside is a blur of sounds and colors a kaleidoscope of faces and voices. in this chaos your absence is a steady heartbeat a reminder of the space you occupy in my life even when you're not here. i think of the marathi word विरह a mix of longing and separation that can't be translated into english. it's a feeling that clings to me like the smell of wet earth after rain.