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I befriended the floral curtains, I befriended the bed sheet creases,
When I spoke to them, they only gasped, sighed, and whispered about the sea breezes.
The wind carries my word to their tattered threads that were broken and blown away,
They understand humankind better because just like humans they go unnoticed every day.
The creases bend and crack to match the undone plains of my skin,
And the curtains, at dawn, gather sunlight in their woven envelopes for me to soak-in.
Surprisingly, the creases seem to like me for the similar fault-line; the similar dream,
The ones I leave halfway on its arid branches only to watch my tears make them gleam.
The curtains, they always lie to me that they're keeping out the light,
For mine, filter the negative and its flowers scatter the ‘pollen of polite’.
And now I have stopped straightening out the creases, there is serene beauty in bends,
It’s as if I left a lazy version of my aura with an earthly perfume and crispy ends.
Pinning itself to my shoulder, the curtains flutter around my thoughts while I am thinking out loud,
Some days, I am the Superman to their cape and some days, just a body to their shroud.
The creases get trampled under my weight and still look like crooked sweet smiles,
But when we feel distant, we bury ourselves closer knowing we've traveled miles.
There have been summers of threesome laughter and winters of weeping a misty eye,
They whispered I was straight and then complained I was awry.
I keep remembering the nameless moments: the coffee stains, the pep talks, the embarrassing, the unplanned;
Why does this fellowship matter so much? I can't explain and you won't understand.
They sung me to sleep and grinned when I rambled too long, too slow,
Their lullabies spoke of me as the only human touch they know.
That night they said they would never leave me. I believed them I had no doubt,
And the next day I woke up with a pair of wings: patchy, floral, and a little ironed out.
~Hritika Ahuja
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