You walk high with the sparkles.
Red lips, high bun.
Yet, you breathe differently.
Hating tears, hiding in the black dress.
until the light turns off,
until the sound fades away.
though I don’t know you, it’s alright. I will hold you.
between the neon lights and the drinks.
in the sea of standing people.
take the microphone.
you have the right to cry.
Why do we care what people say anyway.