The Whore From Faridabad
Kajal* in her lids, circling her plastic eyes,
Doll eyes that seem unreal.
Single rose perched atop her bun.
The red matching her blouse and her lips.
Her beady purse dangling by,
Shimmering in the neon light.
The whore from Faridabad...
Men saunter by...
Watch her reflections.
Her bright silver necklace,
Her flowing ear drops.
Watch her with mocking eyes,
Her integrity ridiculed,
Her essence defamed.
The same men who subvert to her in the darkness.
Their stark souls, stark naked bodies exposed.
The beast in them clinging and clutching.
Embraces sans love.
Submissions sans redemption...
In the creaking red room, in the timber wood bed,
Her heart stays mute. Her stare stays cold.
As passion ploughs over her.
Again and again till her body is benumbed.
She has nothing to lose.
She had nothing to lose.
The cradle of lust.
The melting pot of all human desires.
The whore from Faridabad...
With doll eyes that seem unreal...
In the rain filled night,
Little Biju comes running.
His soiled brown shorts pinned up with a safety pin.
His nose catching a whiff of her perfume.
His monsoon catch fluttering,
Pining to fly away,
The dragon fly...
He sits on her lap.
She fiddles through his hair.
And together they steam off,
Paper boats off the puddle's coast.
And like a twin lightning ripping across
The strangeness of the night skies,
Two shrill laughters pervade the monsoon airs.
Full of love.
Full of mischief and sunshine.
Her eyes moistened with the laughter...
Her doll eyes that seem unreal...
The whore from Faridabad....
* A mixture made of coal......applied over the eyes to make them look attractive......
Copyright © Le Incendié | Year Posted 2008
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