I come home at five past one.
My head hurts and my shoes are gone.
Eventhough my socks are missing, my heart feels full.
Maybe a party isn't so bad after all.
Or maybe it was the bottle of vodka.
I might have emptied that bottle to stop my cries.
My tears didn't stop even after ten tries.
After that last bottle of martini, my tears were dry. I stepped on the dancefloor and grabbed the closest guy.
So with a fake smile and a faux fur coat. I danced all night, it was late when i hit the road.
The lesson today is: just drown out your pain. Everything is better with a bottle of champagne.
YOU ARE READING
masquerade
Randomwe keep dancing because the music tells us to. I am singing to block out the voices in my head. we wear masks so no one can see that we would rather be at home. no party like the masquerade.
