you're my waffle on an ice cream
cone. my crust on an apple pie. my icing on a
cheesecake. my cherry on a cocktail.
my cream to cookies.

my everyday. my right now. my music
my vision, my dream, my reality. my happy,
my crazy, my wild and my subtle.

my tomorrow.

you're my classic. my evergreen.
my eternal. my classy. my Disney, my animated,
romantic, my comic. my musical. my song and
dance. my love story.

you’re my prime time. My midnight craving.

my breakfast. my dessert. my snack. my m&m.

my milky. my chocolate. my sprinkles. my candle.

my cake.

you’re my gif wrap. my ribbon. my secret. my real.

my quench. my satisfaction. my pleasure. my soothe.

my tempt. my celebration. my beer. my pizza. my high.

my rush.

my lucky penny. my four-leaf clover.

my found dollar bill. my wish. my want. my desperation.

my shine. my moonlight. my fantasy. my obsession.

You’re mine.

,¡i¹i¡¡i¹i¡,
`'¹li¡¡¡il¹´


I’ll tickle, you laugh
I’ll play so you seek me
Jump with excitement and I’ll holler with joy
Cuze’ that’s me! A tint of sweet and a bit of silly


And you’re…
The pendant to my necklace, the mirror on my wall
The mascara to my eyes, the sugar to my smoothie,
The fringe to my hair!


I’d act lost on purpose,
So you can act all plucky and come to my salvage
And when you discover my ploy, I’d put on my charming act
‘Cuze we both know it was all an excuse anyway


So be the song and I’d be your remix
I’d be the gum and you be the bubble
You be the popcorn and I’d be your caramel
And I’d be cell phone and you be the talk-time!


So you stay that hunk and I’d stay my glossy
And we’ll keep surfing on the waves of our fondness ‘cuze I now you’re a mélange
After all you’re a kiss of sour and a touch of syrupy and I’ll be waiting…
For that strawberry smooch....

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Come by sometime and I’ll be there,
Walking beside the dew pond as I always did,
My hands folded, eyes empty,
Just walking in silence

I’ll be there finding stars through the daylight hours,
Struggling with my open hair thrusting in my eyes,
One hand stroking my necklace,
My lips partly opened

Walking through the marsh,
The rough corners of the grass brushing against my legs,
The wind blowing my frilly skirt gently,
I’d just hug myself tighter

There’ll be light drizzle amongst the overcast,
It will be a little cold but I’d be too numb to complain,
Stepping on the muddy water underneath,
But I wouldn’t look down

Tap my shoulder if you come
I may not see you or hear you call my name,
As I have become hollow inside, and hurt,
But come by sometime and I’ll be there...

Did you ever get off at an unknown station,
Or walked on an unfamiliar road,
Talked to a stranger in the middle of the night
Or
Dialed a random number.
.
.
.
Ever taken a wrong turn on purpose,
Or knocked on a foreign door,
Bumped into someone deliberately,
Or followed someone else’s steps.
.
.
.
Fabricated your dream before sleeping,
Followed smoke till it all diffused,
Tried to touch the trapped oxygen in an ice cube,
Given a face to an “anonymous”.
.
.
.
How many times do we do the different
Attempt the new
How often have we tried the unknown,
Figured the mysterious
Doubted the given.

Sketching constellations in the sky,
I fall into a mirage of dreams, flickering to me like the stars
And sometimes.
Building ripples in the pool,
I stare and smile at the co-centricity and counter effects of life’s decisions
Ever so often.
Watching the city glow after hours,
I feel comforted in the warmth of the lights
At moments otherwise.
When that sweat finally breaks out,
I appreciate the work and pause for that moment of satisfaction
Many times.
If I happen to see a coin on the road,
I have an urge to pick it up and save it for luck
Also at instances.
When I wake up from a dream I wish was true
I go back and close my eyes hard so it would flash again
Most of all.
When I catch an eyelash on my cheek,
I secretly make a wish and knowing …. we all do.

I sit in the dressing room, wringing the phone between my hands
The black nail polish scratching as I subconsciously chafe the surface of the receiver
My poised posture now a mere mass of misshapen muscle
Tears starting to swab down my pristine make-up
The colored drops making their way down to the velvety, cherry-red carpet


His last words thundering in my head,
First hiding behind a veil of utter disbelief and then out to taunt me


I look into the mirror and see a porcelain doll
From flawless to now cracked and discolored and dull
The rows of yellow, bright bulbs around the mirror radiating back an intense heat
The scent of perfume suffocating me now
I have become a perfect mess

I look up in despair and see a silhouette in the glass stones of the chandelier
Then look down and hopelessly find myself in the shimmer of my heels
Stagger and reach the fancy couch but cannot set myself down
The tears now dried, as if stoned and pulverized on my cheeks
The skin-tone foundation starting to lose its set

All of a sudden emotions come crashing down on me
Of revulsion, exasperation, disgust, fury
For using me like an ornament, for adoration and praise
And then replacing me with a new embellishment
As if I was some trophy wife; capture the attention and diffuse it to you

My trembling hands take the glass of water but it does no good
I need compassion to be quenched
I need affection to extinguish my rage
And warmth to cool down my simmering soul
Then the clock strikes a complete hour and I know its time


I get up, brush my hair, dab on a little more lipstick, smooth down my gown
and walk out to where the audience awaits a celebrity

pictures: Jasleen Kaur

I sit stunned,
masquerading my warm tears in bitter, glacial snow.
Ripped
under unforeseen, surreal reality
Writing the epitaph.
My tears impatient to fall any further
Fresh mascara dripping down my fine powdered face.
A white, newly blossomed rose
pinned down above my heart, onto my cypress-black flowing dress,
A film of charcoal dust settles on the already ashen-dappled clouds,
merging into the sapphire sky
Memories, regrets, whirlpool
in my hazed, mirrored illusions.
My tender eyelids drooping down with the weight of death
My soul, now feeble, clasped with chains of regret
that no warmth can melt.
The patron Saint silently secured in his closed hands,
the wreath, on his casket that still smells strong of varnish
Trisagion quietly echoes in the solitary road ahead to the hearse
Completing the rites and rituals of a respected burial
As the carriers trudge onto the fallen buds on the solitary road,
Nipped from their delicate pedicels. As I have.
The sun feels not warm enough, sonatas not mellow
desire feels not tempting enough, hymns not solemn
music feels not melodious enough, obsession not passionate enough.
My rose on your mausoleum, a prophet, to remind you of my love
No pillars stand to support my once so youthful canopy of will.
So many received bouquets, in which I hopelessly search one knife
To send myself to the same place of my departed
But fall down wild, desperate and forever parted…


J a s l e e n K a u r