Old Clothes Poem by Antara Jha

I’ll still be there somewhere,
While you,
Unpack the tightly packed suitcase of my body
Taking everything out.
Make little piles,
Of things that belong together,
On top of your new bed.
You’ll find new barren shelves
To stack these up in.


My heart will sit at the bottom of the rack,
The shirt that’s never worn.
Until one day you decide,
To stow it away,
In a fit of Spring Cleaning.
Along with your sweaters
Far away with other ideas of warmth.


You’ll wear some part of me,
Like an old college T-shirt.
A little worse for wear, too frayed.
Stained with memories,
Of one too many chais
And glasses of bad alcohol.
And the smell of my perfume,
That can’t be washed away.


Wear it while doing chores on a Sunday,
Because all your clothes are in the laundry.
Take it off, toss it aside once you’re done.
On the floor near your bed.
Then scrub yourself clean of the memories and grime.
While the suitcase of my body lies shut.
Stripped naked.
Gathering dust in your attic.