The Shower

By Anshuman Das

as I go out, the night suffocates me. 

every evening when I step inside my shower

to sit down for a bit and when the light pours in defeating the shower at its job, 

I find it hard to breathe but I have to go out, I have to attend to my obligations. 

this is a different face you see, a separate entity. I died inside and I never really knew. 

This love is nothing like my mind ever thought of and I never really knew. 

The sunflowers in my balcony overlooking the process which ends mankind have died. 

The television chatters on, the dark blue devoid of any stars, the charcoal overrun with tires. 

this is a different life you see, a separate traveller. I lost my path and I never really knew. 

This pain is nothing like my mind ever thought of and I never really knew. 

But as I go to sit down in my shower, the water falling, washing away my mask, I touch everything I am. 

Only my shower sees my pain, my love, my life. Only my shower cleans my real sins. 

When she never really understood how much I loved her, only my shower understands. 

Only the tiles talk to me, the mirror holds up a picture I haven’t seen before, the door forbids departure. 

I’ve got the feeling again, despair. 

The shower loosens my noose, the hue of a greek morning, the moonlight broke and entered but the shower doesn’t mind the moonlight making the waters of absolution gleam. 

By Anshuman Das