Fireworks

Have you ever fallen asleep listening to music? When the song is slowly fading away into oblivion and the world stops being so noisy? That peace, is what I feel with you. Like I'm standing in front of the sea; like the sand is tickling my feet and not gulping me in. Like there aren't enough seconds or long sunsets for me to kiss you because oh my god I want to kiss you through it all; movie nights, grocery shopping, airy blanket forts, ice creams; all of it. Like there will never be too many metaphors to describe the cotton candy my tummy swallows every time you look at me, or the marbles in my throat when I have to say goodbye. Like the maps and continents could shrink and expand like the trampolines I want to jump on to reach the farthest horizons with you. Like finally being home and crashing on my favourite couch after a very, very long day. Because I've never really belonged anywhere, but the prism of your arms is exactly where I fit in. Because you've transformed my heart into a parachute plummeting and flying among snowstorms and fireflies. Because maybe, I might just be falling in love with you.

This Haven Has Horns

When my autopsy report arrives, they’ll say

I overdosed on drugs

Slit my wrists

Drowned;

But you’ll know the truth.

You’ll go back to your room,

And open the mahogany box

With the teal-blue mirror

And the coffee-stained notes

Filled with clues and cries

You were too busy to notice

While I tried to plead to you

When I was still alive.

Still alive

With my blood throbbing

In every vein with the joy

Of seeing your half smirk

By your rusty locker,

With the knots in my knees

On looking at the dried petals

Rotting on the floor,

The ones I’d left

By your cigarette case

A few thunderstorms ago.

With sheets upon sheets

On my guilt-covered bed

In the shadow-filled haven

I could no longer call home.

Then you’ll know

That demons are real

That they walk among us

Reading us fairytales,

Driving us to work,

Bringing us flowers,

Fixing our curtains;

That they have

Kind eyes,

Chipped nails,

Purple aprons;

That they don’t always wear masks,

And smell like humans.

- Sayantani Sarkar.