By Megha Mittal
Tell me you are ok.
I am ok.
Tell me you are happy without me.
I am happy.
Tell me something else.
I stood in front of the mirror today,
inside a body that was
not enough for you.
Not pretty handsome enough, not strong enough,
with it's missing and unnatural
appendages.
Later, I did not
water the plants—they should also die.
He was me
when I sat in front of you.
He loved to cook,
make delicious playlists,
and sing. Wore loose shirts,
sat under the moon,
and hugged
forever.
And now.
He is ashamed, says he doesn't exist.
That he was never there. That I
made him up in
my head. Not his.
But he was there
when I was 8
and wore my brother's blue checkered shirt.
He was there in the mirror; I had seen him,
for just a moment.
Again when I was 14 and she hugged me forever.
(He was the one who loved to fly kites
and race on bikes)
He was there. No one saw him. Not even
me and then I
fell in love with a boy
and he gave me my privacy.
Seasons went by and there he was—
not there—like a conjoined twin
who died at birth. Haunting my body—his body
—his thunderous voice which startled many,
his courage, his anger, his empathy.
Then our father died who loved him
more than me.
He came out from behind
my pierced ears, from between my coloured toes,
and sobbed uncontrollably.
He wrote to you then.
I didn't interfere.
I sat in front of you and you saw me—
with your doubtless eyes and your warm heart.
And I was real. You let me be.
You welcomed me and answered me
when I spoke silently.
I don't need anything more.
Just to exist, to live a little,
feel the breeze on my neck,
salt on my lips—
you are the ocean,
how could you be mine—
to walk on your shore,
collect sea shells;
I don't need anything more.
He doesn't talk much, listens very well.
Has the kindest eyes and gives the warmest hugs.
Maybe we could love each other. I am ok.
I am not ok.
I want the sky to weep with me forever. For Time
to stand still with my grief in its arms,
for all men with bodies to drop dead
so that it's only me, left to drown
in the dregs of your empathy.
I stood in front of the mirror today and he
sat behind, silently. He saw me kohl our eyes
and gloss our lips. I let him spike our hair
although it didn't go with my dress.
I couldn't love him, but I can share
and when the moment comes,
sit in our shadow, and give him
his privacy.
I am ok.
We are ok.