Fade Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Fade

And still I see traces of those blood drops
On the floor, on the wall, in elevator.

And still see the papers rolled
Stocked in the door handles.

And still feel the spring's chill on my skin
As I used to feel her warmth on my neck.

They tell me that I am alive.

What about the cockroach
That lies on its back and floats
Its tiny legs upward in hot water
And in times gets lost under
A large bubble ….

Cut…fade out…stop…enough!