how lovely are your hands
on me, one last time
gentle hands moving to a rhythm
you scrape the vinyl into its place
& hum, adding jasmines to my hair
lentils unsorted under the midday sun
undoing your camphor-like skin,
words hung heavy in the air
shadows tilting,
beneath the watchful gaze of the sun
the sada bahaar blooms.
your fingers press into my wrist,
like the last note of a song,
soft, lingering,
then gone.
the jasmine scent stays
but you?
you slip like sunlight,
through the spaces between us.
the scent of sun-baked earth,
mixed with the salt of old tears,
winds around us.
and still, you hum,
though i am no longer there to hear.
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