Sip, sip, sip

SOMEWHERE, IN A place she does not belong, she feels her throat burn as the syrup slides down her tongue.

sip
sip
sip

Only once, she had told herself. Just this once. Four scraped walls gape at her; only a shattered window to her left.

sip
sip
sip

The magic begins only when she closes her eyes. Inspite of herself, she smiles because she is high. High enough to exit through the window and high enough to levitate somewhere among the stars.

sip
sip
sip

It was an art, she had told herself, to be able to find the right galaxy, the right spot in the galaxy and the right star to focus on. An art only she was skilled in.

When it comes to syrup and galaxies, she is a name engraved on a golden plate displayed in a museum.

They told her it was a defense mechanism. A faint hallucination of escapism, embroidered from the contents of the pink bottle. NO, she says and her creased fingers envelope the bottle’s label and allows not one metaphorical label define her.

Thick lips parted,

nostrils flared

cheeks flustered

and eyes bloodshot,

she ignores her own calls of desperation.

The four walls gape no more. The pink bottle gapes at her instead and everything is suddenly pink. The floor. The ceilings. Her mother’s vase. The broken window. Her dad’s record player. The bottle. THE BOTTLE.

DRINK ME. DRINK ME.

Galaxies call out to her: COME.
You need shelter from reality. Take a dip in my daydreams.

Swirl goes the bottle cap.
sip
sip
sip

Normality. Sanity. Restored peace.

“Just one last time,” she says out loud.

gulp.

AND SOMEWHERE, IN a place she belongs, she sets herself free.

[ The line “you need shelter from reality. take a dip in my daydreams” is actually from Arabella by Arctic Monkeys, but modified or should I say addie-fied, hahahaha. No? Okay.

The attached works of art is by my constant source of inspiration Rudra. Her art work is back on her Instagram, so don’t forget to follow + like all her photos because she deserves it. ]

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