My nail-polish girl has a lot of secrets.
She has had them for long, too long.
She has two boxes of nail polish,
A box of charcoal pencils, chalk pastels,
Bent paint tubes,
And a wonder of her paintings.
But that’s not a secret.
She has a cat too.
The price of her cat’s fish
Is more than what she herself eats.
She told me so once,
It’s not a secret.
In the morning, she goes to school.
Later, she battles, builds, trains and defends
Things I am not sure of.
But I remember, once she mentioned a dragon.
Her favourite eyes are brown,
Hair too.
I’m not supposed to know that,
But she had told me so in a rhapsody.
It’s not a secret.
But there is something she never phrased,
That she owns a glittering pair of wings,
Safe and incandescent.
That she never sleeps at night to dream,
But goes on secret flights,
Defying all aeronautics.
That she has a cosmic plan,
Of flying away when we’re asleep
To Somewhere,
A place she has all figured out.
Her bones are not made of collagen,
But with what was left inside the Pandora’s Box
When Pandora shut its lid.
So when I sleep at night with my windows open,
I’ve seen her gliding across the
Starry, starry night.
She doesn’t know.
It’s a secret.
Can you keep it?