2/3/2013 1:06 am

An observation from a house party.

People who sit alone at parties;
On stair cases, on worn out recliners,
Put in the middle of it all,
But remain quiet.
They don’t want to talk, really.
They’re fine with sitting in a drunken daze, smoke halos above their heads, tainting the smell of their new dress or their nice jacket.
They sit alone and watch the others converse, listening to the melancholy tune softly weeping from the piano in the next room.
It’s nice to see the familiar faces, but they choose to sit alone.
“Maybe next time”, they say to themselves, barely above a whisper,
“Maybe then I’ll have something to say to the rest of them.

Reviews

[Relic]

Wow, I really felt this one. This is good stuff. Observations are my favorite and you put this into perspective, just from watching. Great poem.