Five sticky notes
And a revolving fan
Has more pain than I am
In healed cut marks
And guitar strings
Have more stories than Mine
And what do I wait for here?
My knifes are rusty
In maggots filled kitchen
The sink stinks of weeks left over
I my walls are clean like its not mine
And I dream of the cockroach
Died almost a year ago
I wait to go back there
I wait for love
Brotipriya 
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thanks.
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