Pixie within the pink
Pixie within the pink
let me swirl your tyranny into the high-octaved melody of my earliest endurance
Right as the clock ticked to six, the creaking sound of my mother’s war cry made me bury myself under the blankets.
Laying on the pretty quilted baby pink sheets as the pillow moulded to my head’s shape, opening my soul’s windows.
My eyelashes blinked thrice as my crimson-coded cheeks were carved to a smile, making me bella — beautiful, as they say in Spanish.
Blush walls, a coral canopy, salmon puffy slippers as I firm my foot impressions on the mauve carpet.
Opening the carnation door to a faded floret bathroom,
as my glossy little hands grabbed my elysian bloom toothbrush and a blossom toothpaste.
Oh! To veil from the embrace of reality and reside in the arms of moonlit rose memories —
it was a pure bliss!
Hair tangled to beautiful impressions, a moisturized, enlightened face and gazing at the whispered dawn with a hot glass of bubblegum Nesquik.
Hands suffocating with slap bracelets all in primrose, yet I felt like a mist.
At the barest edge, I still flew with wings of tolerance — also in mauve! At least to me!!
My encrypted diminished pocket held a spectrum of pure bliss — sugar candies,
gold coins — the tasty kind,
and some pop-pops (you gotta have some fun scaring the little lions – aka the boys ,right?).
As my parents sang the unbearable melodies of how the significant other was the worst choice,
the magenta waterfall ring toss and flamingo puffer balls veiled my cognitive presence.
Now the optimistic serene time is like destroyed negatives caved in dust.
The blurred memories are made transparent by the resonance of the same eraser —
the one with the strawberry scent, my fave, or so I thought,
until my wrinkles brought an allergy as a souvenir.
When fancy didn’t mean your tongue swirling caviar with a sacred wine on a Saturday night at a Michelin star with an Eiffel outlook,
but cracked plastic plates with all the enchanting Disneys.
When chewing gum was hazardous and eight p.m. was the yawning flood time.
When unicorns and glitter were the it-gurl trends and
iPhone X was the best model in town,
and the lavish ones even had trampolines and ginormous pools.
When what cereal you ate was a standard and Pizza Hut was the furthest I could assume to a luxury.
And Cherry — the fluffiest flamingo in existence.
When the faded lines emerged with a frequency, I asked:
You never said goodbye to me — how come everyone got one?
My heart sighed as the reply unveiled:
Goodbyes aren’t forever.
And that, my friends, is the subjectively interpreted epilogue of Lily’s elementary album —
the one I scrubbed the dust off for thirty whole minutes.
And I can’t believe how many scented stickers this girl owned.
Clearly, we know who the favorite was.
If these pages could talk, they’d be filing a lawsuit against scented stickers and the color pink.
Good luck, Lily! – I love you !!
Copyright ©
Kashish Kamboj
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