Why we are sober in your parties


Yes, we’re boring. Yes, we’re not interesting. Yes, we’re not the life of the party. But just because we don’t party hard enough, or dance enough or get wasted enough means we’re not really enjoying the party. In fact, we enjoy it a lot, during and especially, the after part. Here’s a little poem why:

You’d easily dismiss us

When the room is in full swing

The wallflowers

In a scandalous bouquet

We’re there, but not there

Clutching our wineglasses (or red cups, it makes no difference)

unto our chests like a lover’s heart,

Eyes on the people,

not to our drinks

You’d see us standing in dark corners

Beside the clandestine kisses,

the clashing of tongues,

the catch in their breaths

Wondering why on earth

every wild kiss has to be this loud

Or you’d see us standing

in the middle of a dance floor

Amid the chaos of sweat

wheezing laughter, drunken howls

slurred moans, orgasm cries

Through the hazy smoke of

animalistic euphoria

We’re there

And we’re still human

Cruel enough to amuse ourselves

with your excusable sins

We don’t give life to the room,

nor we desire to catch your eyes

We are the invited guests

watching from outside,

We may feel belong or not; it doesn’t matter

We like to be in two places at the same time

We are ever-searching

The walls and shadows have our ears

Senses attuned to secrets that may leave your lips

To any untoward action

It’s because it is our hobby to wait long

Talk less

Sip little

With glasses raised to our lips

An open salute to someone

for ardently making the night more memorable

(At least for us)

For being atrociously dull,

you may chide us,

mock us,

laugh at us,

But we’d only smile politely

Continue to watch

And in the morning after,

when your memory of the night

is no more

While ours stayed on

Your eyes avoid mine for a reason

Worry not, we’ve sworn

Our lips are sealed

parting only for the shadow of

a merest knowing smile,

Perhaps with a little bit of scorn,

For that night, that part of you,

we will take note,

We may have a use for it

later on


About sentimentalfreak

Consistently inconsistent. Forever searching and wandering. 'Tis only writing that calms down her restless little soul.

Posted on February 23, 2014, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Hahaha! Now THAT is literally The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

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