Death at Charada

I saw myself across the crowded dance floor
of aimless arrogants in a Spanish bar
on the other side of the world from where I was
when I was my reflection’s age…
She was, I was, we were, the only overweight girl(s)
in the room and in the clique and I witnessed me through her
doing exactly as I would have done 20 years before…
dancing all up on everybody in the place
flashing anyone close to my face
Mine and hers and our presence fills the room
as long as the song booms
We have all the men clapping and then testing our backs to see how far we can bend and I mean her not me, I was just reminiscing…
yet soon they walk away with a smile of thanks it is always toward
anyone prettier and thinner and less wildly moving
Less interested in grooving, no reasons for proving
why they were important and better than me, I mean her, I meant what I was witnessing….
and I could see her and me in her and both of us trying
to just dance it off and pretend we weren’t dying
to just have someone when the slow song came on
pretending we or she wasn’t wounded when they sauntered on
knowing full well if she and I and me and her hadn’t let them grind all up on our bodies they wouldn’t have noticed us at all…
She sweat alone against the wall –
while her suitors bought rounds for all the petite girls that barely moved
and I was instantly blue
by the loneliness of being 23 and sexy and easy and embarrassed to relive it
as a spectator in this moment and with tears that looked like sweat I got the hell outta there because I swear the saddest part
was watching it again with the same broken heart….

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. ... says:

    Nice piece of writing. I guess we all have regrets and heart aches as we get older. Have a good day from me in New Zealand.

    1. Queen Rude says:

      Thank you for bothering to read and comment. I appreciate it very much.

      1. ... says:

        That’s ok. Have a lovely day. Don’t forget to check out my blog if you wish.

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