21 again
You’re only 21 once.
That’s no secret,
but the secret booking
for the secret party
was.
Until it passed to me
by accident.
My secret 21st birthday party.
So, my secret
was keeping secret
from everyone
that I knew their secret.
Not hearing white lies,
pretending not to know.
I wished I didn’t know.
I didn’t want to know.
Didn’t want it to be real.
Why does she not know?
How can she not know?
She should know
it would be the last thing for me.
Why does she not know?
Centre of attention
not for me.
She tried so hard.
Tried to do the right thing
and got it so wrong.
Wrong boyfriend for a start.
Selfish, whingeing, whining,
pathetic that my attention
might not be all for him.
A wrong cocktail of family
mixed with work mates
mixed with school mates
mixed with his surly kin.
All hinged on
and pivoting around
me.
Pretending.
Wrong.
It was over and I was relieved
that I was released
from my role as pretender.
Guilty relief
just as fresh
14 years on.
