I could trail the spider’s silk,
all the way to you, the mass of cobwebs, lacy garments she has
spun upon you, lovingly.
I loom around you, sensing your
darkened perception, this sinking
feeling between knowing and
not wanting to.
My eyes trace you, slowly, diliberately,
and I linger on your eyes which will not
meet my own.
Are you still waiting for my answer? To
tell me that I am closed off when you had said you were busy.
And my hatred? Is that really what you think it is?
I waited lifetimes for someone like you
to stir me as deeply as you did. I wandered aimlessly, looking for a sign that maybe you could be the one I opened to, like a flower opening it’s petals for the first time under a summer shower, but you dry as old bones.
You wax and wane so flawlessly, waiting on my shock to treat the anxiousness I make you feel, and I
try to react as neutrally as I can.
I won’t deny the nights I laid awake and thought about how I wanted to lay next to you.
You were just as closed and tacit as I ever was, and never gave me any reason to suspect that maybe you and I could be more than mere aquaintances.
Under a blanket of stars so fixed, I look at you and you at me, realizing for the first time in this moment of clarity, I am just as trapped in this spider’s Web as you. The only difference is that you won’t notice that I’ve been bitten, too. The final blow that laces the curve of my neck, was given by the one whom I address this to.