Monday, August 4, 2008

Make up

Her laugh had different colors
like that of spilled petrol on water

With that strong smell of her perfume
Something was locked away from the daily chores
But towards the end of the day the gloom appeared
like a nasty wrinkle out of the fading makeup.

She always found escape in her make-up box
And now, in that nail polish remover
Which she treasured.


Rukhiya said...

Nail-polish remover, pretenses coming undone, for once, voluntarily. Brevity!

Sashu... said...

amazin lucid metaphor!!! loved it!