To My Mustard Yellow Girl

A hue of lust and love
You wore it like soul
The pleats run through my skin
An emotion -
Mustard is not a color
After you

MOURNING DIARY

Someday Barthes
We will meet over a cup of tea
(coffees taste bitter after death)
Smoking your favourite
Havana cigars
Under Srinagar skies
(not Parisian)
And discuss
My Mourning Diary
That I never wrote