Private Party

I'm sick of dancing 
This angry tug-of-war tango,
Living in this place 
Where I'm too vaguely aware that
Pain permeates pore.

All the pretending
That I'm not still that little girl,
But skinned knees leave scars
On soft and lonely human souls
Without good armour.

I'm tired of the loss
Of a man who never cared much
Except to leave as
He tattooed music on my soul,
With tears in his wake.

Private lonliness.
It's unconciously purposeful,
Or so it may seem,
Because no one is invited
To join this party.
 
İLMH 2002