MySpace

by Anna Maria Papaoikonomou

Every time you’re near me, I lose my bodily autonomy. I guess it’s worth it, Since you can’t think of a way to walk through Without grabbing my waist.

Feeling your clammy palms snatching my arm, A plethora of sickness as you aim to seize my neck Just so that you could whisper in my ear, Pretending it’s too loud to speak,

I never let you, enter this space.

This space, it requires a distance, Something not too essential for you. Perhaps, you find me familiar, Just like you find yourself too.

I crave that distance, For my body to feel like my own. A circle to surround me from which your senses are away. A reform of the Land Registration Act 2002.

Maybe soon, I will be able to feel like this is my space. Maybe you will grab my waist again, In a frigid coffee-coloured bar, And maybe you want me to be physically disrupted,

But you won’t be able to enter, As I will finally have learned How to make it

My own space.