Selfies

You extroverts make me
look boring
your audiences always applauding
we're blind to each other's
colour on the way

From your selfie stick
to my writing hand
that reaches out to you
trying to capture the depths,
in words, of baby Russian dolls

Tongue-tied outside my door
keyboard lucidity behind
unscrambling
the voice
of an absent person

Writing - a shield
from your bright screens -
a temporary superpower
my sunscreen
my cloak of invisibility

Please take my arm and write your name
I shall do the same
with yours
I'll then be brave and embrace your stick
and together we'll make one