when the party's over
don't go finding for me
done with drinking whiskey,
let me replace it with tea.
when the party's over
stop chasing for that girl
on a fancy magazine cover-
just don't even bother.
house is quiet
when i'm all alone
these four walls around
shuts down all the tone.
leave me be
for this moment
of little tranquility
with the absence
of everyone's presence
of masked fidelity.
i hope
you enjoyed
how each balloons
represened different colors
of everyone's vanity,
how each of the disco lights
gave way for their insanity.
because, eventually,
it worked for me.
and yet, when the party's all over,
it's time to go home
if ever there is a home.
since there's only
cornered buildings
trapping you
inside the hallways
of your mind
the chains on your neck
reminding you
of being bind.
the echoes reverberating
through the walls, shouting
the mess of a person
you still are,
engulfing you
of its coats painted blue.
when the party's over,
don't find me.
you might see
the entangled pieces
i wasn't
supposed to be.
(don't ring, don't call, save it for another concealed party we call our own.)
YOU ARE READING
coffee stains
Poetrythe cracks on this cup still remains, its stains still unwashed.
