Hooked

Curve
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I shut my eyes and dream about the curl of your dangerous smile beckoning me to come closer,

about the curve of your tempting, plump lips, naturally as pink as cotton candy, calling my name with a warm, inviting embrace to lock our lips together

about the way you mischievously bite your luscious lower lip making you all the more flattering,

“Can I kiss you?” You asked cautiously awaiting my approval to proceed

I smirked ’cause I was flattered, I find you incredibly attractive, I was lusting for you.

I laughed ’cause I had been waiting for you to ask, but was too shy to express it first

You didn’t have to ask; I wanted to kiss you long before you sought my permission

My heart fluttered as you inched closer and closer to my face, as I got more entranced

by your defined facial features, by the beauty mark perfectly placed right below your lower lip

A tremor of excitement ran through me as soon as our lips touched, I felt it run down my spine.

In that moment, I knew I was hooked

I would continue to long for the taste of your lips

continue to long for you,

for you to be here,

close by my side.

My lips miss yours.

– Rawnak Mahjabib

Split Personality

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Baby, please don’t cry

I’m sorry

A tear should never fall and stain your beautiful cheek

I won’t ever let anyone or anything hurt you –

it hurts me to see you hurt,

it makes me ache,

it pains my soul,

it shatters my heart,

I can’t bear to see you in pain

Cry all you want!

I’ve had enough of your alligator tears

You fucking, faker!

I’m so fucking fed up with you

Crying for my pity?

You want me to feel bad for you?

I’m so sick of you,

I can’t even look at you.

– Rawnak Mahjabib

Spring Cleaning

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I was cleaning out my mahogany dresser the other day, my usual seasonal cleaning

Uncovering clothes that had been folded and tucked away within the crevices of the drawers and forgotten about

Re-discovering the stained, crumpled up body-con dress that I had worn only once and forgotten about its existence soon after

That same dress was the one I had worn the very first time you laid eyes on me,

“Love at first sight,” you called it.

That was approximately 3 years and 5 months from today

But now that dress is no longer the same flirty, flattering, form-fitting dress

Instead the shades of flamboyant fuchsia have faded

No longer fabulous or fashionable, full of crinkles and wrinkles, worn and torn

& you are forgotten forevermore.

– Rawnak Mahjabib

 

New Yorkers Are Mean

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“Here comes the sun do-do-do- do-do,” sings the street performer, as the flurry of passengers pass by.

The musical notes echoing euphoniously, floating into their ears

A blur of faces, not one more distinctive than the one behind

A sea full of strange faces, each awaiting departing to their destination

A select few compassionate individuals get captured by the musical tune and come to a halt,

Digging deep into their pockets for a handful of spare change

Or a few crumpled dollar bills to drop in the performer’s collection bucket,

Causing an exchange of smiles & a silent expression of gratitude

Guess the inhabitants of the Big Apple aren’t so mean after all.

– Rawnak Mahjabib