In Polite Company

There was a story,

I scream as they stare at me

with distaste,

their lips upon their

wine glasses,

fingers hovering over

the empty space above

their buttoned-up shirts,

their jewelry.

There was a story,

and it told me

all about you people,

about the small talk between

strangers at cocktail parties

who want nothing more

than to leave but

always seem to stay,

about the way

they match their lives

to the shoes on their feet and

the lovers on their arms.

There was a story,

and it told me of

the many creative souls

drowned out and extinguished

by the well-meaning downpour

of “polite company”.

When I look into your eyes,

into the pale apathy

of your blackened pupils,

I remember that story,

and I fear you more than

death itself.

Nonsense!

they laugh,

returning to their drinks

and their business,

preferring not to hear the girl

who sees right through them.

Carrying a new heaviness,

I leave them to their company

and their eternal aloneness,

float through the wall,

and melt back into

the night.

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8 thoughts on “In Polite Company

  1. “they match their lives

    to the shoes on their feet and

    the lovers on their arms.”

    Is the portion that stood out to me. It does depict the sad reality of today’s society which the same amount of value to shoes as it does lovers.

    As always, love your offerings. 🙂

Thoughts? I love those.

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