Point

There’s an

Orange flavoured candy

In a transparent wrapper

With white frills

In the pocket my

Black jeans

That look more charcoal

And less night.

I’m not sure

Why I bought it,

But the packaging

Is comforting to

Distract my anxiety with.

I remember

Gawking at the last collection

Of gums and candies

Beside the cashier;

My last chance

At a little treat

For my crooked smile

With windows in between.

Sometimes I’d be able to

Lick the cocoa off my fingers,

Sometimes I’d have to

Drag my feet away.

I still look

At the market’s last chance,

Might even treat myself,

Just sometimes –

Subconsciously –

When I miss having

Someone snap me

Out of my little daze

Of Willy Wonka’s factory.

He’s walked out

Of your room,

And I get my awaited nod.

I pick up the tiffin

Of chicken soup and,

Steamed broccoli and carrots

And walk in.

I can see you’ve been waiting

And I’m not sure

If the splash of relief

Hit me more or you.

I take my designated seat

Right beside you,

Adjusting the sheets,

Making sure you’re comfortable.

I can smell the sandalwood

In the room,

Normally smelling numb

And I know you’ve taken

Your last bath for the day.

You were particular

Of that bar of sandalwood,

Just like how

It was either the blue minty bar

Or nothing else

When you would

Walk me into the shower

Everyday before the sun rose.

They’ve parted your hair

On the left,

I talk out the maroon comb

From my bag,

And cup your face

Towards me,

As I gently shifted it

To the centre.

Like the way you would

Before placing a hairband

That matched my frock

Onto my tiny head.

I understand your look

Of satisfaction,

Today,

As you look up at me

With your big brown eyes

After I’ve added my touch ups.

Life is funny,

With time being it’s punchline

We talk about

Beginning and ending,

Like it’s a straight line,

When it’s a circle;

Beginning at the end

And

Ending where it began.

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