Cobwebs

Spot lights on the dance floor,
wine and drinks in rows.
Swirls of dresses, taps of heels,
wrath of midnight parties, blasting through.

A pallid single palely dressed,
forgotten in shadows of dim-lit sites.
Head in knees, hand round glass,
many merry hours, wasted in grief.

Distant melodies misbegotten in pain,
struggle to stay sane fails to being.
Tears streaming, hics choking,
few would know, none will ask.
~Ger.