Sitting at the table, I make myself
Small, but still too large,
Intrusive—listening, laughing but not
Speaking for fear of the silences
And exchanged glances:
Nevermore will I speak uninhibited.
I wonder how long it will take them to see
Through the repeated, "I'm just not hungry."
Through the repeated hoarded oranges
The tea I never drink
The food that falls in a big bin of wastefulness
The fingering of my collarbones
Waiting for them to show,
The empty plates,
Empty words,
For something
I can't get here.

The End

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