Flat Party

Darkness if not for the flashing lights

Silence if not for the pounding music.

The metallic taste of rum on my tongue.

The face of someone swirling in front of me,

My feet no longer on a solid ground,

My heart turning on my neck.

Trying to remind myself where I am and who I am with.

Stumbling into the tiled room

Knees on the cold hard floor

The metallic taste again but worse.

Little do I know it was already on the door outside,

People frowning, hating me.

Someone holds my hair and runs their fingers through it.

My weak arms and legs carry me to my bag

You sit opposite me hand on my knee

You tell me you want to see whats outside

Then you are on me.

Do I really want this?

The metallic taste on my mouth again this time on my lips.

Your face swirling again.

The sounds of shouts and laughs now distant away from me.

The feeling of hands where they shouldn’t be.

The music still pounding.

A concerned voice brings me back, telling me I should go home

The blinding light of the phone,

The thumping in my head.

 

My eyes fly open.

The metallic taste in my mouth

My hair strangled in front of my face

How did I get into my own bed?

My phone betrays the route home,

The uber an angel sent for me.

The churning in the pit of my stomache

Is it guilt?

Or the alcohol.

For months insisting that was not who I am.

Tears springing to me eyes everytime.

Maybe this is who I am.

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