As we sit by the sill, eyes glimmering with ghosts of past and lips curled up in a luscious smile, our thoughts hover in the moonlit space, just like postcards swaying over our window sill. Those postcards were from different places we’ve visited and sent our love with. There was silence and an owl cooed at a distance. It was the laventer breeze that told us the winter was on its way. “Ahh, the official cuddle season”, breaking the long silence, the warmth of those words hit me differently that night. I simply sighed, trying to push away the overwhelming feeling of a heavy heart, away…
We wrapped up for the day and rolled up the letters that were clutched within our petit fingers, a while ago. They’ve grown old, read multiple times, but, every time, they bring about a different emotion.
While mine lay on the couch I sat on, the other one was fluttering away with the wind. That parchment had an essence of its own, but the inking on it, made it special. Special to the heart; dear to the soul…
I don’t know what happened today. It was difficult to comprehend. Or maybe, its just difficult to accept. Whatever be the reason, I’m afraid. Not ashamed; just scared. I don’t know how to put it to words, but I suppose with time, things might just ease up.
I was just reading Austen and just then, felt strange. At first, I thought it might just be the queer feeling of dilemma to choose between an empowered character, of the submissive one. But it was something more than that. I felt different, so I got up to take a break from my hour long read, and noticed it for the first time. The sheets were red! I bled for the first time…I was just 12. It was difficult to understand, but I knew about it from school and also what mother had told me the other day. I washed myself and called out mom for help. It was fine at first, but then it hit me. As I lay on the fresh bedspread, I was in an intense pain. Cramps encaged me and all I could do, is to curl up in a shell, hugging my own self and trying to get some sleep. But sleep, was hard to come by.
Moments later, which honestly, felt like eternity within that pain, I felt the door open. My tiny eyes from behind the blankets peeked to recall the familiar blur face. I realized tears tippled down my eyes in pain and through their haze, I saw her. She had always been there and I’ve always cherished her presence. She had seen my vulnerability and I felt safe within her reach.
I smiled as she came closer and wiped off my teary eyes and smiled back at me. “don’t look at me like that” I exclaimed, my puffy eyes and an annoyed face, made her laugh. Just then, I noticed, she looked beautiful when she laughed. “You’ve grown my dear maiden”, she said in a comforting, yet cockish tone. I told her that the pain made me uneasy and its difficult to concentrate on anything else. I asked her if I could sleep on her lap and she opened her embrace, just as always. It was welcoming and warm. I felt loved. I felt desired and cared for.
Time passed and we spent more time together, until soon, I was 20. Though she was elder, we bonded like anyone else. She used to spoon me, whenever I felt low and that was better than a tub of ice-cream!
But, through the years, I’ve deceived her. I had kept her in dark. I had grown anonymous feelings for her. I thought I was crazy, but it just started to become overwhelmingly uncomfortable and I just could not let it eat me up, anymore.
So today, I walked up to her…
Today she walked differently. I knew there was something in her mind. I’ve always embraced and cherished her presence. I’ve known her closely; that her very movement tells me there is some tensed nerve with her. She came and sat, facing her back towards me. Maybe it were the tears she hid, or the shame she had in her eyes. She thought I didn’t know, but I did. I could feel it too, but was reluctant to say anything, before she confessed.
The sun was setting, and its rays set her hair on fire. She looked utterly beautiful. Confident, yet scared. She was a muse personified. God! I love her!
I thought so loud, maybe even she heard. She gave a sigh and said “I know you’ll hate me for this, but…”, “you’re the last living on earth t=who might hurt me, and that hating part, would be the last thing on earth that I could do to you”, I said. She giggled, satisfied.
That was the moment when the warmth among us, changed to fire. The fire that could never douse off. We knew we were inclined to each other. We knew, we were made to be together. We knew that this craving was beyond any sin or culture, we knew, it was LOVE!
I looked her in the eyes and saw a tear dripping down. She was sensitive. She had hid herself in the attic for so long, that the existence of a world outside, made her feel alienated. She had to step out. I was there to hold her hand. I would always be there. But she had to fight the demons. We, together, had to fight them.
It was a long road ahead, and the path was lined with dry leaves, making all the chatter and clatter. We had to step on them. Together. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. She was still wet with those tears dripping. And as she held her fingers nearer to my lips and encircled them, I knew she was mine. I knew, I belonged to her. Our lips met and the eternity blossomed. We had found the meaning to our lives. She had found the meaning to her existence, and I had found her…
She was beautiful. I could have used a more ornamental word, for her beauty was metaphysical. But I liked the sound of it. Beautiful. It’s subtle and sweet. Just like her. I had cared for her ever since she cried o her first menstrual cycle now, I shall always cater to her. Whatever she might need. Anything, she might need.
As we sat there, watching the sun settle, we felt the spark among us, brighten and enlighten us. Cleanse our souls, for we had finally accepted love, the way it is.
The reality was difficult to be gulped down, and the fact that we’ve had a bond since long, added to the bitterness. Family disruption and social embodiment scared us, scarred us, but we held those scars as our crest. We had our fair share of accusations, disbelief, disowning and disgrace, but what kept us going, was the love we shared.
It wasn’t just lust, or the attraction to flesh. It was the way, our company and presence, helped each one to grow and blossom towards perfection. We were like pottery of clay. We had strengthened with the flames of social taboo and came out shiny and pretty. Yes, we were pretty. Pretty together.
Its been 12 years now. A bond that started with a whimpering kid, completely unaware of her sexual orientation, to now, a grown-up, empowered entrepreneur. I have had my share of crests and troughs, but the only constant for me, was her. From sharing unsaid, unheard emotions, to sharing the home and the tampons…we’ve come a long way. Those bands encaging our fingers, are the proof of a love that won. Of a story that was never told out loud, but was shared in a heartbeat. And as she spoons me even now, I become the same 12 year old, embracing the warmth and feeling beloved. She is like an escape to me. She helped me out of my attic to see the world above and beyond.
I could hear her soft snores. Tired, I think. The day had been exhausting. But shed me. I had her. We had found our home within each other. Though, the strangulation and the marks it left, never really left us, but we’ve found our piece of beauty. She told me I’m beautiful. Nah, I think otherwise. I think I’m beautiful when she is around. Her confidence in me makes me feel empowered.
Lesbian, homoerotic or just a queer, I’ve been called names. We’ve been called names. Its difficult out there you know…for someone in a dilemma of orientation and the constant backslashes from society…family, it just keeps dragging you down. But honestly, the bond you share with your beloved, is worth it all.
The thoughts are heavy. They sometimes feel like a burden. It’s a burden that we carry always, everywhere. They make your eyes shutter and slowly close, but the trick is to never fall asleep. But today was different. Today, I wanted to sleep.
Sleep, enclosed in the warms of my ladylove. My muse. Like the warmth of a hot chocolate on a cold winter night. Soothing. Enchanting. I wanted to sleep and I did…hopefully, my thoughts won’t. There are many out there who need these thoughts. And they shouldn’t sleep. Not today, not ever…