wanted to be

I want to be your eyes, hair blowing in the wind,
Sometimes your earrings touch the cheek.

Bangles on the hands, the red tip between the forehead, the nails
Sometimes the crooked tooth is like a soft bird's feather on the white coat.

I want to be the forever memorable moment of your crooked smile,
A smooth conversation with Sakhi after many years of lip-locking,

Your secret glances in half-eyed, steady pearls in fickle eyes,
Your soft soles, bumpy soles have never been traced.

I want to walk with your slow feet, I want to be the rhythm of crooked lips for no reason,
Gold mixed with water is like the color of your hand smeared with raw turmeric.

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