|10-11-2012, 04:24 PM||#1|
So-Called New-Age(d) Poet
Join Date: Aug 2007
[ another old one revisited ]
In the suit I'm in,
I'm not me at all.
I have to practice fake smiles to greet
strangers who exclaim how I grew up
and splatter happiness on their faces
until they realized we’ve never
really interacted before.
I have to practice fake smiles to hide
the desire to have her by my side,
giving the final touches on her makeup;
to accompany me on the trip
hand in hand, indifferent
to music or silence; grabbing
my arm as we hear
about trendy issues like
the economy, war and social networks;
to escape the party to a lonely corner
where we could have our conversations
or share our silences,
however irrelevant and meaningless they are to the world.
I have to practice fake smiles,
not to make the night unbearable
for anyone but me.
Any night -
any night tastes like a dinner without a date.
Your sarcastic laughter knows...
Think Until Thought Has No Ink
New one: The Cries Of Those Who Stay
Last edited by seventh_angel : 10-11-2012 at 04:27 PM.