I bought these designer pants yesterday,
Endorsed by all the gram influencers,
They are slimming they all gushed.

The pants are made of the softest wool,
Designed to cocoon and insulate you,
Protect you from all the judgement.

They have pretend pockets stitched in,
Because what could you possibly put in them,
That’s more important than looking thin?

Maybe this is how the world ends,
Not huddled together, holding hands,
as a meteor races towards us.
But quarantined separately in rooms,
as a virus eats you slowly from inside.

Maybe this is how the world ends,
Not from a single gunshot to your head,
as you revolt against bullies on streets.
But from a slow drowning in your guilt,
as a voice asks you why didn’t you?

Maybe this is how the world ends,
Not from a bomb exploding in the mall,
as you buy a new summer wardrobe.
But from a slow burn deep inside you,
as you ignore the haunted eyes around.

Maybe the world doesn’t end after all,
Not from guns, bombs or stray meteors,
as you wake up to sunny blue skies.
But how will you face yourself tomorrow,
with all this death festering inside?

Cross your legs, bow your head,
laugh softly, muffle your tears.
Occupy as little space as you can.

Don't look into their eyes,
they may see the fire blazing there.
Fires beckon to be extinguished.

Sit silently on this pedestal,
be the shiniest offering you can be.
The seller doesn't profit from bruised peaches.

Be the object of my desire,
here's a mold you must fit in.
Walking in the middle may confuse us.

You are the creator of the world,
but we will distract you with petty battles.
So you never realize you can win wars.

Hold your breath when you're scared,
don't move at all while I touch you.
Your shyness is your beauty.

Dressed in your bridal finery upon death,
frozen in the only identity that counts.
You will be perfectly still, finally perfect.

I see you from the corner of my eye,
As I head towards the dessert table.
You never could hide in plain sight,
Even if you stay as still as you’re able.

I wonder why you came here at all,
This 20 year high school reunion.
You didn’t have any friends back then,
Or even now in many an opinion.

You stand with your spine *****,
As you confidently scan the crowd.
Are you looking for someone special?
I don’t remember spotting a plus one.

We had a fleeting connection once,
Have you thought about it since then?
Over the years, in the deepest of dreams
I have let myself linger on memories.

You were so impressed that one time,
When I used ‘pugnacious’ in a sentence.
Maybe you saw something in me then,
Something seen only thorough your lens.

Why didn’t we last beyond a few kisses?
We have both moved on since then.
I, scared of trying harder than I was,
And you, disappointed in my contentment.

But two decades since I was sure,
You’d have conquered the world by now.
As we find ourselves back here again,
Surrounded by where’s, what’s and how’s.

If you asked me point blank I’d admit,
I stumbled into this room only for you.
Do you feel this pull as we lock eyes,
Your tell is subtle but I remember it.

I am feeling reckless in my smile today,
Will this be the moment we begin again?
You, having sampled the world and me,
Still the same, hoping it’s good enough.

So eager to please are you,
that your first reaction is to smile,
as the poisoned words leave his lips.

‘Sorry, what?’ is your second reaction,
like somehow no matter how vile,
the words are your fault, you need to apologize.

He says ‘come here’ and for the first time,
you face your inner voice that whispers ‘Run’,
like it’s standing outside your trembling body.

But you are rooted in your spot, frozen,
still a smile plastered on your lips,
as the goosebumps erupt everywhere.

He bangs his hands on the table then,
says ‘are you deaf? I said come here’,
and you begin praying desperately for a miracle.

As you start to walk towards him,
your hands extended, placating him,
you wonder if it’s fight or flight you choose.

The doorbell rings followed by excited knocking,
It's probably his friends with his birthday cake,
their presence diffuses the tension in you a bit.

You finally exhale as they rush inside,
still smiling but it doesn’t reach your eyes,
you take the cake and escape into the kitchen.

‘She’s hormonal’ his lazy voice drifts to you,
like anybody looking at you will not see,
the fear that oozes out of every pore.

The money you’ve been hiding is under the sink,
your purse still on the kitchen counter,
while they cackle watching some old videos.

You shove the money in your purse,
with your eyes fixed on the back door,
and you move towards it, no longer frozen.