evolution • poetry

01| the boy next door

H A N D K E R C H I E F S

Once, three years back he was the boy next door,
The one who always showed his back.
I guess what he had tried to imply,
Was that he was someone I'd never have.

I'd sworn to catch him on the wrong foot,
The one he used while stepping on a banana peel,
No bruised knees, but a few glares were thrown,
At least I had got him to look at me.

Three weeks flew by, and he was still,
Bent on getting his revenge.
I simply grinned, putting the wrong foot forward-
A banana peel...what the hell?

The bump was significantly harder this time,
I sat in my room with a broken toe.
I bit my trembling lips as pain shot through me,
"That'll bleed in a while. Trust me, I know."

My pupils widened of their own accord,
What escaped my mouth was an unholy squeak.
I bumped my head against the head of the bed,
And raised myself to find him looking at me.

I lowered my head and whimpered,
Refusing to meet his gaze, confused.
"I thought you'd punch me, I prepared, you know-"
"You're just like all those kids at school."

A thick silence had taken control,
Until my whimpers broke into full fledged sobs.
He offered me his Iron Man handkerchief,
And fed me maggi, a full bowl.

"Who's your favourite Avenger?" I asked,
"Spider Man," he had answered proudly.
So why an Iron Man handkerchief, I wondered?
"Like me, he loved Peter dearly."

His eyes sparkled as he spoke,
Brown irises submerged in addictive caffeine.
Despite facing the cause of my broken toe,
I felt that beating organ beat harder against my chest.

After different shades of warm, flushed cheeks,
I accepted the fact that it couldn't possibly get any darker.
"Can I be your Iron man?"
"And you mine," he had offered.

As we talked about the seemingly unimportant,
He told me my cheeks blushed a crimson hue.
I shyly pointed at the lights in the room,
While my heart leapt for joy- a scarlet mood.

The clock struck ten, panic took over me,
"You need to leave!" I had shouted.
A softer smile, and he didn't show me his back,
A day well spent, I had concluded.

One day multiplied infinitely,
My broken toe had healed a long time back.
"A broken toe, Ma, it was because of me,"
I giggled as he rummaged through the painkillers on the rack.

"The boy indoors, not the boy next door,"
I covered my mouth with my palm, trying to hide my grin,
"The boy who's yours, and the boy indoors,"
My mouth was left wide open. "Oh look! It's crimson!"

It had been three months with him, three months it took,
For him to open up to me.
"My father turned his back on us."
He never turned his back on me.

Three more months down the line,
We found ourselves growing shy.
Only on the outside, while our feelings intermingled,
Breathing in a passion divine.

A set of Iron Man handkerchiefs,
Is what he gave me when he proposed.
"This means I'll always be with you."
He showed me his matching set, his face a bright red rose.

A small study room, with the light bulb flickering constantly,
A typically unromantic setting it is.
With Iron Man handkerchiefs clutched in our determined fists,
That's where we shared a tender kiss.

Mandatory, innocent pecks were shared,
As he read me stories, slurping a bowl of maggi.
And as we watched Avengers Endgame for the umpteenth time,
The Iron Man handkerchiefs came in handy.

The next three years saw us growing into fine adults,
A few fights, and tears stained my cheeks.
But the Iron Man handkerchiefs always reminded us of our promise,
And we rushed to each other, a haven of comfort and safety.

The ring on my finger shone like a night sky,
A symbol that he was the light in my life.
And I in his, if I'm not wrong,
Love marriage was the maiden stop in our long drive.

Two hearts once upon a time, now three,
My little sweetheart plays with an Iron Man toy on the floor.
"Who's your favourite Avenger, Ma?" she asks me while flashing her milk teeth,
Even today I answer, the boy next door.