Breadcrumb #562

KASHAF GHUMMAN

I keep Jasmine-scented candles at my side table

The smell takes me back to you in a dim lit room 

To evenings spent playing the "who will reach nano first" game

I always won

Maybe because I made the game, but I wanted to make you laugh

When your face stitched itself close from your aching loss

Every day you would wake dawn up with your gentle reminder of a due good bye

And fill a silver bowl with tiny Jasmine flowers

When you were happy you would place them in your ears

The elongated loops through which I could see 

Beyond your gray, black, henna-tinged hair 

You smelled of jasmines, your ears, your hair, your palms and your golden bangles

Your room smelled of jasmines, your comb, your woolen socks, your handmade quilts and your rusted henna bowls

Your jasmines were always soft and wet

Succulent from the tears you hid among them

By the end of the day they would turn brown and shriveled in elegiac discontent

And you would retreat further away from us

Feeble in your restraint but obstinate in your sorrow

And that's when we knew it was time to leave

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