Slouching

I catch myself, leaning heavy over lunch,

a half-eaten sandwich, thoughts drifting like smoke,

it's the way my spine curves, like an old tree,

as if it knows better than to reach for the light.

A coworker’s laugh, light and sharp, cuts through,

‘Easy target,’ they say, not knowing the weight

of my shoulders, which sag under unspoken tasks,

every word, a reminder that here I remain.

The laptop glares, judgment as loud as the hum

of fluorescent lights, the echo of discontent

that clings to my skin as I slouch, unseen,

a reminder that sometimes, surrender feels like home.