For my Nail-polish Girl.

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?