Three weeks ago.
Black body on white wall, inches away
From my pink shower curtain,
I stare at it as I get in and out.
I refuse to lay it to rest.
A childhood fear lead to its
Merciless murder, and fear
Drives me to leave it untouched.
I will not throw the bug away.
“It could never hurt you anyway”
But still it remains on the wall,
Where I stare at its small,
Crushed being.
Death is like that.
I won’t touch it, won’t talk about it.
But I can do nothing about it.
Death cannot hurt me.
Until one day, when it finally does.
But then, will I even really feel that hurt?
I am scared of death just as much
As I am scared of a tiny creature
That I could crush in two seconds,
But I acknowledge the spider.
Paige Perla is a writer and freelance editor from Pittsburgh, PA. She enjoys writing poetry and fiction. Her previous work has been featured in Aeons and the Carroll News.
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