Transparent

Note: this is not about me or anyone I know.

It couldn't be
something I said,
because I didn't say much.

(Other than when
I betrayed you, that is.)

And if I did my words
just tangled with those you
spit out,
strewn in with emotions and
tears (mine, not yours);
not as beautiful as
one would think.

I only tried to help.
That constant
just eat,
please eat,
was me whispering in your ear,
me trying to
break down whatever walls
you put up.
I just wanted to help.

I told, not to see the
anger in your eyes,
the piercing hate and the
smashing of pictures
on carefully polished
mahogany floors, but to see your
obsessed-over secret

slip away.

To see your mom,
eyes open, and arms too,
holding you as you
writhed away,
cursing and crying.
To notice you, to care;
isn't that what you've always wanted?

I soaked up what
you threw my way.
'Some best friend' cut me
deeper than the
shards of glass on the floor.

And I curled up that night
with my arms wrapped around
my legs, trying to make myself
smaller and smaller,
and thought:
this must be what
she was going for.

Invisibility is bliss.