Inside

I don’t know if I’ll pick up.

Stab me
I won’t hear the skin punctured
Hold me
The smog inside dulls my skin
Talk to me
The noise inside strains you to a drone
So bury me
Let me lie as I’ve lived
If you kiss me
Let me say:

I couldn’t feel your lips.

Mina Demian writes poetry, fiction, essays, and film reviews on his website.