Friday, September 5, 2008

the morning after:


I woke up to the rich smell of talcum powder
‘Johnson’s and Johnson’, I knew it too well,
I tried to revamp my memory
But all I could remember was the smoking
And the vodka that made me smile a lot.
I was double-stoned and eagle high.
Stoned from the smoke,
High from the bitter shots
And so thoroughly love stoned by those nails;
I always had a thing for exquisite manicures
And soft sensitive footsteps under a fragile gait.
Now I smelled of love but reeked of self-disgust.
What was her name? Her age? And how was she?
None of them mattered..
All I could recollect was that
I loved the flowers on the skirt
And the stringy straps on the blouse
Plus she smelled so good,
Something like a wild flower bush.
Plus her eyes bounced a lot
And her skin was almost baby like..
But I could not remember her
So I scratched my hair till the scalp itched
Still I could not find her.
She had smiled and drugged me with ease,
Now she was gone, it wasn’t her debut act.
But I knew she would be back
Maybe after 5 years like last night.

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