A View From The Curtains

It was a sunset-stained afternoon

And the curtains hanging in between

And the curtains hanging in between that tight-lipped room,

And the curtains hanging in between that tight-lipped room, a secretkeeper

Hung motionless,

Hung motionless, lifeless like it lacks thiamine

Hung motionless, lifeless like it lacks thiamine

Hung motionless, lifeless like it lacks thiamine No appetite, reduced reflexes, fatigued- an alarming disorder

For it may affect the heart,

For it may affect the heart, her heart once hurt,

That no band-aids, song or words could mend

The taciturn curtains obstructed my view

From the tuscan sun-coloured windows

Maybe, it's just protecting me

From the reflection of a crestfallen human

But on the second thought, I learned

That it wasn't really veiling my eyes

For the very curtains mirrors me

Whose motivation is expiring, numb, dormant,

Whose motivation is expiring, numb, dormant, falling asleep into the riverbed

Whose motivation is expiring, numb, dormant, falling asleep into the riverbed of escapism, spinelessness and cowardice

And that very moment, at 3:47 pm

I loathed the curtains that peeled the dried glue of delusions in my eyes

But before I grabbed the hem of the heartless, insensitive curtain

Whose emotions have long been drained, even sifted away from all the biotic

And gaiety animations who HAVE NOT yet missed

And gaiety animation who HAVE NOT yet missed the sweet taste of AIR in their lungs

The wind breathed life to it and for those 12 seconds

The slumbering curtain took A GREAT LEAP

K I S S E D the flowers before it,

K I S S E D the flowers before it, E M B R A C E D the patient and loyal leaves,

It danced for few more times To the mellifluous hum of the summer wind

and its WONDROUS c u r v e s became explicit

It made a grand jeté with all grace and beauty

It made a grand jeté with all grace and beauty Etched on its every single ballerina-fiber

And when it reached my H A N D S,

And when it reached my H A N D S, it slipped through the tiny s p a c e s IN BETWEEN my f i n g e r s

Was it an invitation?

Was it an invitation? An invitation to dance once more to both l o v e s o n g s & e l e g y

Or was it a reminder?

Or was it a reminder? A reminder...

That when I feel NO MORE seafever,

When I CANNOT ESCAPE soberness from

When I CANNOT ESCAPE soberness from champagne, moonwakes, adventures and principles

When I cannot get drunk to POETRY and the w h a t n o t s

When the sun doesn't feel warm anymore

And the snow n o l o n g e r freezing lest makes my heart FEELS c o l d e r

When TEARS no longer serve as INK to my PEN

When places I sleep feel like g r a v e y a r d s

And my mind wanders NO MORE

And my mind wanders NO MORE to world of fantasies and pipe dreams

There is always someone, something,

Be it a mother, a teacher, a vendor, a pollen, a bug, a cut,

a sound, a light, a crunch,

a cry, a word, a touch, a whisper, a book, a story, a stare or a dust,

Anything, alive or lifeless that will tickle you or hurt you

Anything, alive or lifeless that will tickle you or hurt you just to make you redeem your senses and knock up your quiescent soul

To help you get your strings of adventures get tangled or untangled

And that doesn't matter as long as you are m o v i n g , you are t r y i n g and doing something I N T E N S E

There is always SOMETHING or SOMEONE

There is always SOMETHING or SOMEONE that will give you A PUSH on your back

like how the wind does to every single dreamless curtain

who succumb to personifications and inanimations,

who succumb to personifications and inanimations, slowly f o r g e t t i n g and no longer y e a r n i n g for the bittersweet taste of AIR IN LUNGS

Thank you for reading and take care always! :)