I saw a fair reflection
of mine from the rearview mirror.
I was being driven away
to a place where it rains grey,
where a pale orange dawn
tosses quickly into monochromes.
I want to look back
and destroy a future
I am being taken to,
no matter how tempting
my friends made it sound.
Pastel boulevards,
lips reeking of caffeine,
constricted space in a car
and I am muffling my cries.
I had been known quite a beauty;
beauty is what gets you picked
even though the mountains of emotions
are yet to be explored.
It’s a trap
what if I am not loved
the way I had been all my life.
The music that swiveled
me around along my friends
with the sips of our favorite
beverages in the late evenings,
what if that music turns into the
vinyl records I am not
accustomed to and made
to dance on their tunes.
I am scared.
Can I even share that I am scared
without faltering the pillars
of my standard they have
perceived of me?
I am Lanny, the most beautiful doll
when I was picked from the shop
by a 12 year old, Lanna
the one who showed me
stars in a crowded street,
the one who became the best
of my friend in all these years.
She, now, reluctantly handed me down
to her younger cousin
while she being drove off
to a new mysterious place
as a godly reflection of a perfect bride.
Almost certainly
having the same thoughts
as I am, at the moment.
And I so wanted to say to Lanna
in my muted voice and a poker face
“Come back to me
if your nightmares wake you up,
if you want to run through the meadows again
wearing a light crimson frock and
seizures of childhood,
come to me for cold floor poems
we recited before dozing off.
I am Lanny, the most adored doll
And I am gonna pick you up
for as many times as possible
the way you picked only me
among the crowded toy’s shop.”
