tagNon-Erotic PoetryOutcast

Outcast

bySander Roscoe Wolff©

Casting her eyes about the room,
twos and threes with heads close
whispering conspiratorially and,
occasionally, laughing.

Fluttery insects dance and cavort
in her belly, her legs jelly,
feeling so foreign and disconnected
from the throng.

Standing in her cute shoes,
the booze she’s sipping
numbing her shame until
a smiling woman approaches saying
“Hi there, I’m Susan. What’s your name?”

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bySander Roscoe Wolff© 3 comments/ 1160 views/ 0 favorites

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