Throb

*Inspired by Late, a poem from shrinksarentcheap. In response to the daily prompt.

Nightclub pressure

pressing down deep

like a crown of thorns

Fiction like a swinging pendulum

crossing from shadow to light

I am wearing a cheap suit

white in color

borrowed for the night

from a vampire I used to know

The floor is multi-colored as I enter

paparazzi hanging in the corners

flashes going off like confetti

momentarily blinding and binding

fragmenting my conscious view

And I haven’t shaved in weeks

but my hair doesn’t grow as fast as yours

I would be jealous if you were interesting

and you’re not, you’re definitely not

Beside myself with sympathy

just on this one night

drinking like a fish to forget

the sting

the grief I was supposed to leave at the door

and you’re dancing up on me

from behind

while the cameras follow every move

I didn’t realize I was famous

until this moment

I twirl away to face the darkness

so you can’t see my tears

streaking this face you used to love

in the place of our rebirth

until the night collapses on itself

and I can’t remember anything

Which is probably best

but for who?

Sam