Unseen in Crowds

The taste of stale sleep,

dry on my tongue,

and a cold film of sweat

on my hairline.

I was just standing,

in a room packed tight

with all the faces I knew.

They walked past me,

like glass,

their eyes glazed over.

No blink.

No recognition.

My own voice,

a desperate whisper,

got lost in the drone

of their talking.

Not scary, not sharp.

Just a heavy, flat sadness,

the kind that settles

in the hollows of your bones,

leaves you empty,

even with the sun up.