Your bindi...

Certain things leave their mark
For example that round shaped dark
On my bathroom mirror, left by your
Bindi carelessly stuck, by you, before perhaps water you poured
On your naked self, soaped aromatic, glistened touch...
You left bindis such
Here and there...
Almost everywhere...

On me how many times the red powdery thing
Your presence by your embrace soft did bring...
Once...almost you laughed and giggled
Seeing that red mark vermillion
On the left side of my face as it stayed a fiddle...
Another day on my white shirt the mark you laid
Tons of detergent failed to away it fade...
You still smiled naughtily
Your love you expressed so heartily...

Your bindis surely captivate me,
As you do by your clean forehead
Your hair falling upon your eyes unruly
Also sometimes dropped me dead...

They say your bindis carry your most pure soul
I find them helping me to unwind my ancient scroll...
The scroll that still registers
Your every move so meticulous
The scroll that still possess
Your bunch of poems and proses...

Your bindis... color me
When I am so discolored
Your bindis...strengthen me
With all the blood of a martyr's valor...