Nothing lives here. I pick up my tired body
but it’s harder than I thought.
I know it’s a good way to end.
I watch him chop vegetables at the kitchen table,
But is he even worth it?
The reds, greens, oranges;
He asks you what you’re writing.
Why are you watching?
Get out of my head.
This coffee tastes like life:
Something I haven’t had a taste for in a while.
Harmonicas wail in the background;
A sound he insists upon,
But I know better.
Don’t let those tastes and sounds fool you.
It’s the world as you know it; only dead.
Samantha Fischer is a writer, music lover, and cat mom living in Minneapolis. She is a founding editor of Dirty Chai Magazine and her work has appeared in various blogs and literary journals across the internet. Find her on Twitter @samanfisc