In June, I saw
A beautiful white spider
On my backpack.
It was eating a mosquito.
I will write a poem
About it later.

As we laid in bed
I pulled you closer and guided your arms around my body
for you to hold me like you once did before.
You didn’t resist but I could feel that the warmth between us,
that deep connection where our hearts beat together
had long since left.
In that moment I became desperate for you again.
I went to the bathroom and peed,
there were clothes all over the floor
and a spider tried to spindle its web in my hair
to which I had a fierce panic attack
especially when I saw the spider after frantically trying to dust it out of my hair
and off of me.
I returned to the bed and the other guy had left
so it was just me and you
and I took my shirt off and you laughed at how hard my ******* were and tweaked one of them.
I asked if you had plans for the day and you said no
and I said I wanted to spend time with you
because it was a nice day out
and you agreed
and I said that I wanted to talk
to which once again you seemed open to but less than interested in and I found myself back-peddling as to not frighten you away
but I knew that it was too late
and i could feel you realize that whatever hopes that you had of us being just friends
had turned into something you had to protect yourself from.
I slid over on top of you to get close and to smell you again
and you pushed me off
and I rolled off the side of the bed
onto the floor and laid there, cartoonishly, unable to move,
paralyzed in knowing that I would never be able to get close to you again
and I woke up thinking about how much
I love you.

There is something so calming
About the spiders spinning web.
Something so comforting,
A song sung by the dead.
Hear it wallow in the distance
Like an unforgiven tune.
Sung by the rivers daughter,
The beauteous sunset muse.

Bask in the moonlit waters
Barely but blessed by shining sun.
Hold to your heavn'ly quarters,
The likes of which shall come undone.
For if you catch the spider spindle
You are likely to be safe.
In other wares, their finer fares
In absence, stay awake.

I speak not for the Titan,
Or God nor Goddess alike.
I speak not for the tongue
Of the mumbling friars might.
For Alas my hearers hear this plea,
Beware the nymph of sophistry