Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.*
Extravagant words, elegant clothes, arrogant people,
Intelligent phrases, nationally known scholars, Princeton and Harvard alums,
Accepted verboseness shared over
Champagne, caviar, crème brulee
Ladies fasten their hair in tight buns,
Don dresses cinched up their backs,
Perfectly pinned brooches,
Gentlemen sporting suits and top hats
Cummerbunds and spectacles perched perfectly
In the eyes of audacious adventurers and explorers,
A pocket watch ticks in perfect time.
They dance under a lonely moon
Filled with a passion that will end too soon
Aristocratic soiree,
Why have I dragged myself here?
Tuxedos, dinner gowns,
I cannot even afford a thread of that woman’s scarf
I wonder if they can tell
That I pinned my own hair,
Buckled my own shoes,
This dress does not belong to me,
But they tell me I look gorgeous tonight.
They dance under a lonely moon
Filled with a passion that will end too soon.
Public transportation
I did not have a car to make my grand arrival in
The bus driver was rude
The man to my far left smells like popcorn
But you were on the bus
Seventh row back, right window seat
I wonder if you could tell I was wearing a borrowed outfit
How couldn't you know?
Fancy Dress
infancy transportation.
But it felt like you knew me
Everything, oh stranger on the bus
Did I ever tell you of the time I almost got stabbed on public transportation?
Or of the rapping, middle aged, businessman?
You can't remember, but I feel as though you've been there all along
You're no stranger at all.
She broke her heart the other day
Thus my heart was broken,
He broke her heart next,
The one left untouched was you.
What is it that makes us not good enough?
Too much or too little of what?
Isn't it you, not me?
Clichés that are worn out before they're even said.
I bet it's my hand-me-down dress
My home done hairdo
My lack of knowledge about which of the four forks I am to use first
Do I dare interrupt this conversation about communist dictators?
To ask with which of the thirty utensils I should use to eat this
Extremely small piece of what appears to be some sort of meat first?
Who would've thought we'd be going to the same place?
Your eyes catch me with striking familiarity
I've known you somewhere else
I’ve met your passion,
Felt your skin,
Smooth, beautiful,
Smelled your scent,
Pleasantly intoxicating
But your eyes, capture me
Burn deep into my soul
Reading my every thought
Putting me on the line between bliss and insanity
I have been the face of strength to the masses
While you know I have wasted away behind this façade
Blanketed in sorrow
And trapped in a haze that has risen from the ashes of what was
Ignorance and naiveté
This impurity and foulness
Has yet to make your love waver
And for that I fear you
I've seen the pain in the eyes of the starving men on the street
Young people stripped of their childhood
Sad women fixing their hair perfectly just to go to the grocery store
Of all things I could be doing
All the people I could be helping,
I'm here with you
In this place of security
Just you and me
The only place on the planet where I would desire to stay forever
With memories of the greatest times and worst times
Did you gander at me?
I still have a borrowed outfit.
You have seen me falter
I've seen you in the beginning of your end
I've seen the face of death take your baggage and check you in
For a flight to nowhere.
In short, I was terrified.
And could it be worth it?
After everything? Ups, downs, coffee, tea?
Amongst the small talk and huge talk between you and me?
Did I bite off more than I could chew?
Or have you picked someone who lacks the strength to hold you,
Like you desperately need to be held?
One day...
I'll tell you everything...
Rest my head on your shoulder
Hoping you'll tell me the same
The true story
No more lies.
Would it have been worth it?
After the teacups, lemon cakes, the laughter, the sorrow
The music, the theater, the everything...
And so much more.
How can I possibly put this into words...
Tell you what I mean?
I am no princess or queen
No Juliet or Cinderella,
No first lady, no damsel in distress,
Save me, rescue me, none of that.
Let me save you.
I'm still wearing a borrowed outfit
Stuck trying to fit the mold of what the world wants.
Honest, trusting,
Wary, frightened,
Cautious, spontaneous,
Conforming, Rebellious,
Often almost ridiculous
Never the player, always the played,
The gullible fool.
They dance under a lonely moon
Filled with a passion that will end too soon.
Should I wear my hair down?
Should I drink this lemonade?
I'll wear dark sunglasses and long sleeved cotton shirts
I've heard the children singing arm in arm.
But they won't sing for me.
For I am the hand-me-down stranger.
I've seen them skipping down the street
Through the paths in the park
Playing in the daisies.
Until we are back in the bus
Just you...me...
the bus driver...
and the man who smells like popcorn...
In outfits that aren't ours,
To a party where we don't belong
On a road that leads to nowhere,
And we wake up in a place where no one can hurt you.
*"Tomorrow at Dawn” by Victor Hugo
I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Without seeing anything outside, without hearing any noise,
Alone, unknown, back curved, hands crossed,
Sad, and the day for me will be like the night.
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