Three Postures of Despair

I.

She sits on the edge of the chair,
shoulders slumped,
curled as if to hide herself;
but she is alone
and no one can see her.
Aligns her feet closer,
knees pressed together,
hands clenched into a ball,
she rests her elbows on her knees;
leans forward,
presses her forehead to her hands,
casts her eyes to the ground,
and lets movement cease.

II.

She bids him goodnight,
refuses his offer of companionship,
of something more fun
than another night spent sitting,
staring at a computer that can't talk.
Reaches her room,
closes the door slowly,
waiting for the click of the latch
before she turns to the wall,
hands forming fists at her sides,
and leans her head into the wall,
eyes closed
mind busy berating her actions.

III.

She sits at the table with them,
smile desperate on her face,
waiting for someone to notice she's there.
Opens her mouth to comment,
to say something witty,
something of interest or value,
something that won't be heard;
speaks,
only to swallow the rest of her words
as they talk over her attempt,
eyes never registering her prescence,
and she sits, silent,
at their table, but not in their circle.