I sit back, kick back and watch,

eyes half-closed.

My face is stuck in a permanent smirk.

(It's not a scar)

"They're cute."

If I keep quiet, I will become invisible,

I will become the air they inhale.

Not poison, not crushed glass,

just molecules of my presence.

I mean no harm, I could even get up

and leave

but

apparently

I serve a purpose here

of which

I'm not supposed to be

aware.

Uninterrupted. They can chatter

as I listen and teeter-totter.

Wobbly arms, sore arms.

Here, there is only

the rustle of two voices

and unsteady pulses.

I think, I think I finally know

what I am now.

I'm deaf. I'm deaf to the

un-pleas-ant-ries.

Cute.

I bite my tongue so hard

instead of blood

I can taste acid.