Pretend that I don’t even exist.

There was a death recently

And what do you care about life?

Actually, there were two

Both of them water-related.

Think bloated green stomachs.

Just another individual among the millions departed.

And here I am

Existing

And what’s the point of asking how I am? Huh?

It’s not like you care what I say

You cut me off mid-sentence and never pick up what I have left off.

And have the audacity to call me secretive?

I don’t share with people who can’t suffer through my loneliness.

If you’re insensitive, I’m much worse.

But yesterday you reminded me why I hate people.

Yesterday you took the cake.

And blew all the candles to leave that wax burning.

My skin like wrapping paper. I want to tear it open.

I need to return it back, whatever it is you call life.

I never asked for this and it has become a burden ever since.

I’m tired of being ignored

Passed over

Broke

Depressed, sometimes not all the time.

Loneliness is my chosen comfort.

Most of all I need distance from you.

If you can’t stand me. It’s ok. I won’t be so close to you either.

To hear is to obey

But if you pretend again that we are something.

 

I won’t be writing poetry about you. And I’ll say something very unbecoming.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017