I’m here
Sitting by the lake
If you can see me now
What do I have to lose?
If I wasn’t here it wouldn’t matter
If I’m not here it wouldn’t change you
It wouldn’t change the crystal clear water
There is nothing that I can do
Lying here impotent
On red Muskoka chairs
No matter how far I travel
Or where I sit
It doesn’t change
This unease
I can never get comfortable
Feeling useless isn’t unique
But feeling nothing
Is okay
Spiders crawling
Bedspread
I try to bleed them but they keep coming back
Nesting in my ears
You can hear them
Constructing a web
Trap the flies
I wish I could trap your eyes
Stroke them with honey
This sugar is for you
And there’s nothing left for me.
Leaving, wouldn’t matter
Staying
Is suspended mid-air
Floating
Spiders make me uncomfortable
And that’s why I can’t sit still.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
About the Creator
A.R. Minhas
Self-published author of 'June is Dreaming'. Voracious reader. Watcher of weird entertainment.
Website: https://arminhas.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/arminhas
Artwork on Redbubble.
h
Private queries: [email protected]
Keep reading
More stories from A.R. Minhas and writers in Poets and other communities.
The (Pho)enix Room
Light and carefree piano notes dangled in the air, spreading that cheery jazz throughout the atmosphere. They danced around slowly, bouncing softly off the pale blue walls, attempting to fill the entire room with a positive vibe. But the jazz was a mask… a mask that the owner of this establishment was trying to fit over an ugly, evil face of deception.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.