She cries out,
grapples for attention
from anyone
that will cast a glance
in her direction.
She speaks any words
that may hold their gaze upon her
for more than a minute.
Going home
to settle in alone again,
a fear she carries
behind her ear,
like a spare cigarette.
Instead of lighting it,
she drives,
avoiding the ashtray
of a home,
the place scattered with snubs of regret,
unfulfilled needs,
and the scent of wishing
for more.
She screams,
hoping her tone
will find a set of ears
that will convince
a pair of arms
that she is worthy of being held.
Maybe the whispers
of guilt
will quiet
if she has another voice
to listen to at night.
Maybe her tears will cease
if she has
another pair to get lost in.
She squeezes,
holds her fists tight
and clenches her jaw
as if being stiff like a rock,
the planet we stand upon,
will draw others closer,
letting gravity do all the work
because despite how strong she tries to appear,
she is weak.