Where do I Send Them?

By: Pranjal Shirwaikar

Someday,

I wish to tell you about my days and my dreams.

Of my nights and my nightmares.

Of my friends and my fears,

Of my red lipstick that brings me much joy.

Of my gray hairs that don’t sit still,

Of my skinny jeans that make me look tall,

Of my little boy and his little feet.

Of his tiny body and mine,

Of the smile I host in that scar.

Of my life lately.

They sit close to each other,

Stuffed. Sealed.

Hoarded and hidden.

Arresting and holding my breath.

With a bow on top, they became my words.

I don’t know where to send them.