A Face in the Crowd

The lights flicker as the music drowns my sanity,
vodka has done its job: inhibitions faded,
ecstasy escalted, and momentary bliss experienced.
I see you. I see your face.
Same hair. Different person.
You dance your way through the crowd,
as I suffer the guilt of misleading you
to a love that’s true.
I was in love, yes.
I was in love with the feeling,
but not with you.
I see you dance, happy.
You see me, and your face change.
Like a leaf that fell from a tree,
your smile was removed.
The pleasure was turned to anger.
I move in closer, reaching you;
you move away, inch by inch.
The music surges; my heart races.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask through the thunder of songs.
“No,” you say, “not today.”
“I am leaving soon,” I say, holding your shoulders.
You inch away from me, throwing off my touch.
“What made you think I care?” You ask.
The music fades; the lights dim.
I smile. “You haven’t changed.”
I walk away as you dance with the other guy.
“I just wanted us to be friends again,” I whisper to myself.
I look back, and you are gone.
I grab my glass of vodka,
and drown myself with a thought:
I have done what I could;
I am now a person in your life,
you twice removed.
And you are just a face in a crowd,
and I am never caring again about you,
for crying out loud!


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