The Red Suitcase

My red suitcase has opened up by itself, almost magically. 
Oh well, not really. 


I had left it unzipped after fishing out the toothbrush last evening.


I see my crumpled soul 
lying in a corner,
Barely covered by my peach saree's green border.


"This needs to be smoothened out," I murmur 
and stash it in the laundry corner.

Inside the vanity case, some kisses were jostling for space with lipsticks purple and pink
And they play with my memory like building blocks
or a chain's link.
In the right corner, hidden beneath the stack of unwashed T-shirts lie
The caresses and contours, the fragrances of Dunhill-Rum-Sweat-Antiseptic-Navy Cut-My Hair Oil (stolen)
And I sigh.
The suitcase needs to be emptied, the soul smoothened.