He, who lives in my room

You live in my room and sip my tea
It’s evening and
I can inhale the fresh aroma
of a popular darjeeling blend

on Radio FM you hear
my favourite show of
old Hindi film songs
late into the night

Mili. Abhimaan. Guide.

you stretch out on the couch
iPad resting on a plump cushion
replying to my text messages
and writing my emails

It’s as if my room is open
there are no keys to the door
and you enter and leave at will

today you are wearing the shirt
my friend gifted me

today the mirror gives up
my face to you

you call out to my mother in my voice
she turns
you excitedly describe to her
your day
in which I am never found.