When he asked me to describe it, I told him, “invisible”
Like I wasn’t even there.
“They acted the exact same as they always do”
Which is the problem, I think to myself

I am an outsider they erase with their soft-edged jabs and jokes, their topics
of conversation “Will you take the pictures” because I would not show up in
them anyway, A vampire here to suck the life out of you
As they suck the air out of the room
I can’t breathe

I am the werewolf that shape shifts to survive the night
It is clear I do not belong
Bitten by the curse
Scratched with misfortune
To have a seat at the table then be silenced
I sink my teeth into the garlic potatoes and howl later that night at the moon

Wrap me like a mummy
In your see-through dressings
Bind my being
Cover my wounds
Suffocate me with cellophane smiles
Because everything I say
is folklore

Do you see me?
Or do you see right through me?

I snap my fingers
Wave my hands
How damning it is
To live in this flesh
But never be seen

Mia Brabham is a writer and conversation lover. Her debut book, Note to Self, is a short collection of personal musings that is in the hands of readers all over the world. Mia is also the co-host of Two In The Morning, a podcast that explores and unpacks the cultural questions that keep us up at night. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter, or at bymiabrabham.com.