Someone is talking behind your back all of the time when you can’t hear it
Insisting that you are so unique their day was different for having you in it
Loving all the photos that you think are too ugly to post so they stay in your ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀camera roll
Even the little girl down the street pretends to walk like you on her way to ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀school
Never daring to tell you for fear of being perceived too, even your
Crying coworker never forgot the time you sat outside the bathroom stall ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀until she laughed
Even the wind is whispering your name even though all you hear is…
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This poem is an entry to Vocal's acrostic challenge:
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About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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