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.