Hover

You are the lingering feeling

That is perpetually hovering over my head,

Like a killer hornet, whom I can't ignore.

The buzzing of its unnatural, translucent wings

Producing a trepidation deep inside my core,

Making my feeble frame shudder with angst.

In lieu, if I engage with it, I know forsooth,

It will sting me and make me virulent.

The stinger that was remained inhumed,

Still penetrated, in my flesh somewhere,

Bleeding its poison, oozing its pleasure,

Tardily, in my stream and my soul,

Paralyzing my frail body and,

Arresting my wee thoughts,

With the soft warmth of the sweet torpor,

While the foreboding of the impending doom lies in wait.