Wallflower- A Poem
no different from that pale pink paisley print folding into the wall.
I tap my loafers against the floor of this party.
the room undulates to the sound of fresh notes that melt into us.
you walk right past me
you don’t even see me
stale discontent overwhelms me.
But I see
you with your men and your women and your clothes and your gold, and your voice
causing laughter or streams of tears.
Puff out your chest and play the marionette in these hallowed halls.
they fall at your feet.
they leave
and air seeps out of you like a deflated blue balloon.
they don’t see your face touch ground.
I saw you that night on hollywood boulevard
rain shot pelts at us.
you were hooded, running naked without your face.
no masquerades tonight.
did you find that person you were looking for?
I couldn’t take that desolate look in your starry eyes when you reached the payphones.
They were snapped like twigs.
a severed connection.
Do you touch, or long, or breathe for real?
I hope so.
You see through me to the flower painting this wall.
the freak, the misfit.
But I love you,
and your secrets whisper fog all around you.
I hear it all.
Written By: Britta Kirk 2010, *All rights reserved
inspired by The Perks of Being a Wallflower
