Your big brown eyes
Make mine green with greed
For a taste of you, so sour, so sweet
As succulent mangoes.
I pickle my flight of fantasy
With a dash of pepper from between your lips
And a dollop of your red hot rage between your brows
From last night’s fiasco.
Your cocoa eyes, forever squinting at mine
Questioning Love et all
Drip honey in my dreams, nonetheless,
And I drink up the dripping desires
Left untouched by you,
Ripe mangoes about to rot with time,
Forgotten lifetimes.
And so I return to you this time, yet again,
With the next question
Dancing forever on my unkissed lips,
“Tell me please? How many more lifetimes
Before we get this pickle bottled, sun-dried and sealed?”
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All rights reserved : ©Nivedita Dey, 2019
Larkspur Lane 