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.