Luster Noir

I am a stranger to time when I finally resign to my bed, my wall clock’s face matching that of my mother’s disappointment. There’s nothing special about the night, no sonnets would be written by lovers writhing in pain, trying to fashion something out of gold for their porcelain-faced beloved. It’s a plain night, but it does match me. There’s a sliver of moonlight that slithers in through a crack on my window. The window in itself is placed as an afterthought, splattered with cement stains, by an unsteady hand. However, it does have its benefits, shrouded in the ignorant dark, making it uncomfortable for a human eye to spot – it will never be the subject of wandering gaze. My eyes trace the soft light as I lie on my mattress, it’s foam generally, but it feels like a wall of bricks tonight.

The dead of the night outside my window suddenly gets disturbed by an errant car passing by and I lose my moonlight for a moment. It is angrily replaced by the rude yellow that wants to barge as if its sole responsibility is to hold a mirror to my insecurities. Hands fidgeting, fingers holding the right side of the mattress, I imitate a cocoon, turning my back to this sudden intervention. It soon starts to rain and my grip loosens, I think a little bit, on reality too. I drift in and out and find myself right on the brink of pleasant sleep. The raindrops have made it their mission to annoy my mother a little more and disturb my dog, who had stopped the expedition he was on, in his dream.

Have you felt the softness of cotton candy lately? That’s what the mingling of silence and loudness feels like right now. Looks like the rain has decided to enact the workings of an introvert, the patter on my window’s roof is soothed, almost like someone spilling secrets in deliciously hushed tones. The silver moonlight’s streak is back in its place like it never left. I am back in this room, my racing heartbeat and all; like it never really left. Like those nights without my moonlit ceiling never really happened, those tear-stained bedsheets, the air ripe with ignorance in the next room, nothing. All is normal. The absence of light, this dark night, it reminds me of a smile of comfort, its arms outstretched, ready to engulf me in acceptance. I turn to my left side, which makes me feel the same way too, the position does more than any person can at this point. My piece of moonlight shines on as I drift into sleep, oblivious to the fact that it’s almost time for the vivacious sunlight to dance her way in.