Afterthought

A poem

Image credit — Pexels — Tahir Osman

Always a little sad
as the hourglass sand grains slip away
in those seconds during and past
every time we have met.
Melancholy moments piercing
each of our parting of ways.

Treated as an inconvenience.
A reminder of how invisible I feel.

Needed for nourishment, yet
I am your
acid reflux afterthought.

It burns.

I’m here.
I’m not.

Disappearing
Ceasing to exist.

Understand what Schrodinger’s cat
must have sensed
over that isotopic radiating vial
the only dim light
in an otherwise pitch-black box.

Wanted.
Discarded.

Not alive.
Not dead.

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