I rush to the window at the sound of him,
I can see his retreating steps from here.
Home is a person, not a place,
My home has decided not to come home.

I have been planting flowers,
And there are two sets of every dish.
There is a dent in the sofa that fits him,
And he has decided not to come home.

It's nighttime, and I have to close the doors,
Both sets of keys are on the stand.
The bugs have come home to the lamp,
And he has decided not to come home.

He never left clothes at this place,
No traces of a male except the sports channels on the cable,
No spare keys on his keychain to return,
He made it easy not to come home.