The Lifeless of the Party

If I back up any farther my
bones will become part of this place,
I'll mold myself to the paint and
plaster my skin to its base.
At least then when their gaze sweeps by,
they can admire the pale tone
and whisper about the wall decorations
instead of my expression set in stone.
Through the obnoxious music I can hear
a guitar strumming softly outside,
beckoning my body to escape the drones
and find the human that seems to hide.
Don't cry my love, don't cry no more
A voice trembles across the terrace,
and leaves a smoky trail to the trees.
Head hung slightly and plucking strings
whose sorrow brings me to my knees.
Don't sing that old sad hymn no more
I cannot fathom how this fellow
would arrive to this awful event,
as his melody murmurs in my ear
I remember my own torment.
The wall that felt like ruthless vines
choking the choice out of me,
my petals stretched for a sign of light,
this boy answered my painful plea.
Don't cry my love, don't cry no more
We sat and sang in haunting harmony
until our lungs had lost all feeling,
the house seemed a distant disaster
that the sun was slowly revealing.
As he wearily rose up from the ground
my soul began to sink,
I had forgotten that the night must end,
it cannot stay stained with ink.
Don't play those violins no more
He walked away with tired steps,
leaving seeds of song in his wake.
I moved towards the dying party
with a silence I couldn't shake.
Drunken fools lay sprawled on the floor
with bottles of dreams in their hands,
I sat and sipped from an opened one,
languishing the lyrics' last strands.
I cannot bear to hear them

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