Backing out.

Strangers
shake my hand
but friends
turn
a blind-eye.
I don’t want
a hug,
just affirmation
that they see me,
hand
outstretched.
I like the corner,
I put myself there…
not to be ignored
but to guard myself,
and watch.
Maybe they have forgotten
that i am here
at all.
The outstretched hand
has gone to my pocket,
or the drink,
and i have dropped
my gaze…
indifferent,
now.