I can’t write when I’m at ‘home’ anymore 

Write me, read me 

life is little to nothing without the words of me

to you

to her

Of myself, for myself 

Insert yourself into my place

sit hunched amongst pages and pencils

or posture perfect amongst ladies and gents

Sit where I sit

See through these eyes and blink slow

giggle on cue

take my (your) hand to my (your) mouth

to cover that one tooth that doesn’t place nice

Feel my insecurities 

Why do you think I sit with my lower back

aching in spasms,

and my neck outstretched,

and my legs crossed just so?

Head pounding and I’ve always

got a drink but it’s nonalcoholic 

It’s not to impress

my image behind closed eyes

It’s merely to maintain my fly-on-the-wall status

can’t waver now

I don’t know how to be the centre of attention

and

I don’t want to be 

I’m not special 

I have to go in ten minutes

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