Invisible-
That feeling I get
when you stare
straight at my nose
instead of my
pinching pale lips.

Invisible-
That feeling that
shivers through my exhaustion
when I speak into
you, and it still isn't
retained.


Invisible-
That feeling that
echoes in the silence
after you stopped calling
and thinking and writing and
asking why I mutter to myself
like no one cares
to hear me.

Invisible-
That feeling I get
when I'm speckled brown and
you spaz in the swirling in neon crowds.
I thought you liked squishing mud
through your toes,
just like me.

Invisible-
That feeling I get
when you stare at my scuffed shoes
instead of into my runny eyes.
I assume it's just because you're afraid
there won't be a reflection. Because
you might be invisible too.

Apparently I couldn't tell you.
Invisible people don't
frown, speak, think, live or see.
Not even for you.

Don't try to lay on my
non-existent lap
so I can stroke your hair with
unfeeling fingers.

Go cry to the stars
and eventually you'll discover,
like I did,
that they are as brilliantly icy
as you.