Monster

By Purvi Rathod

Monster is not the one under my bed. Monster is the one tucking me in.

Lurking around. Waiting to hurt me.

Standing at the door with a smile, not letting the light in.

Thinking he's protecting me.

Thinking of all the ways I'm his and only his.

He doesn't move, doesn't budge.

He doesn't speak except once a day, only to my detriment.

Monsters have horns and he has thorns too. Like roses, I keep trying to touch them.

And I keep bleeding.

Monster's not the one in my closet. Monster is the one in the doorstep.

Lurking, watching my every move. Deeply staining my pillows with blood and tears. Staining my mind. Of all things dark and celestial.

Monster is the one I go to. For help, for love.

Monster is the one who denies it the most.

Gives me the finger, shows me the palm, turns the cheek. Smiles and walks away.

By Purvi Rathod