or wrap myself in it like a cloak.
I can bask in the fullness of my own
ambiguity, my enigmatic self.
The question is, who owns this cloak of disappearance,
this fabric of hidden-ness?
Is it mine to put on at will?
Or is it theirs to cover me when my presence is--
just...
not?
I am a ghost, an unseen shadow
present, but not
seen, but not
heard, but not
Never ever felt.
My ghostly cloak of hidden-ness, masking my ambiguous,
enigmatic self.
Their cloak of disappearance
silences the voices
quells the action
sanitizes the space
until my un-existence is clear.
© 2009 beckie
