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Paranoia This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By MSohr, Oshkosh, WI

I've watched my door for a week now
Praying for your face in the frame
Or your voice and footfalls approaching
Any hint of a heartbeat

Morbid, I imagine
Seven days of death's dark yield
I brave the mass grave, dreading
Your poor soul among the bodies

I pick through every car crash, the
splintered glass
Expecting your wrist amongst the wreckage
In my growing anxiety I investigate
Every pavement-bound body
And lead-filled lung.

When I try to conceive
Every rope within your reach
And alley eye watching you hungrily

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