The Velvet of Your Bindi

Your Bindi is still here,
Remains on the wall above my head,
And it keeps reminding me of you
It has been ten months since you touched it
And I keep feeling it
Trying to find a hint of your fingers,
Imagining how you would have picked it up,
Where your fingerprint still does lie.
I don't remove it
Fearing it might fall and I might
Lose a long memory of your trace
How hard I try to look for your words
In the red bindi above my head
All say it has been enough
I've mourned enough, I've grieved enough,
I've written enough.
But what else do I come to
To converse to you
And relieve myself from the clot of these thoughts,
But in the only way I know
In the only way you'd appreciate.
I run out of options and
The pen and paper do not judge
They do not ask me to move on and forget
For how can I forget,
Tearing up into a disturbed sleep
In this very bed where you slept each night,
It misses the blink
of your closed eyes, now closed forever.
For how can I, how can I forget
Your caress, your smile, your laugh,
Your stories, your scoldings
And your touch,
Which the paper and I felt.
The touch, which the red velvet
Of your Bindi felt.