AntaraDwivedi

Don\'t you worry

I could make myself a thatch out of straw and dried leaves.
At night, I\'d fold in a rolling ball you can place in any corner of the floor,
staying dead as the carpet underneath you.
So you don\'t need to worry.

In the morning, I\'d wake up crinkled and unfurl.
I\'d cuss you out for wrinkling my soul,

wash it in the sea of longing,

and leave it out in the sun to dry, for hours and hours.
By nighttime, it\'d be stitched back like new again.
So you don\'t need to worry.

In the afternoons, I\'d make myself a cup of nice, lukewarm tea
and sit and stare at it for moments that feel like years,
wanting to drown in it.
But then I\'d sip it and read the leaves for a change,
grim mark of death, but my mother tells me it often means nothing.
So you don\'t need to worry.

Come the evenings, I\'d put on some rose blush
powder my nose and color my lips stark red,
the scart letter still hanging above my head.
But your father tells me most can\'t see.
So you don\'t need to worry.

So don\'t you worry,
my days are wrapped in a blanket of satin comfort
and hope that fizzled out far too early.
But I am still walking, talking, standing,
living some might say.
So you don\'t need to worry.