Quiet enough to shut me out but
Loud enough to confirm my suspicions.
About the party this Friday night
That I am not invited to; I was not supposed to know.
‘What are you wearing?’
‘Jeans and a nice top. What about you?’
Something I really didn’t expect;
I sit with you at lunch; I’ve been here for years.
I hear that the new girl is going
But me, I’m not invited.
Quiet, perhaps, because you feel guilty;
You know that you are leaving me out.
About me, but I don’t know why;
What did I do to you?
That get quieter when you all glance at me
And then look away quickly, not smiling.
The only way to talk to you;
The people I call my best friends.
Words I wish you would say louder,
Because now I’m just left with
Which crowd my mind
Until my thoughts are simply
Verity Cartwright is a sixteen-year-old writer who loves writing short stories and poetry; most recently her work has featured in the Daphne Review and the Stinkwaves Magazine. When she isn’t writing, Verity enjoys walking her dogs, watching TV shows, and spending time with friends and family.
–Art by Piotr Kaczmarek