fat funny friend

they always ask me to stay a little longer, as if laughter came from my skin. as if I could be unlonely just by making sure no one else is. I fill the room, and yet I’m never in it. they love me most in photographs cropped at the waist— in group chats where I type like a mirror and vanish like fog. I am the pause before the pretty one speaks. I am the arm wrapped around her waist. I am the voice that steadies the silence but never stirs the heart. boys tell me I’m safe, like a bed they’ll never sleep in. they laugh and I laugh and my laugh is a little too practiced. I know how to fold desire into a joke before anyone sees it. I know how to be background, the warm blur, the easy comfort you never imagine kissing. and still— when I cry it’s always quietly. as if I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.