Leaving the Party Early

Leaving the Party Early

A crowded fireplace,
empty wine glasses grace the mantle.
We charm each other with stories
and warm red breath.

A jingle, my phone.
I'm not supposed to be there, they say.
I'm supposed to be with them.

My apologies dance and skirt around
requests to stay
and warnings of impending rain.

I reach the door.
The smell of embraces and kisses
floats around me.
I step outdside.

Sylph exhales, a sharp whistle through her teeth,
a whipping gust.
The door wings wide
and beats against the house.

Reaching out,
I force the door into its frame,
closing off the connection
to warm, glowing lamplight,
and laughter sparkling around the fire.

I step onto silver grass,
swaying shards of slate.
No moonlight pierces puffs of gray and black cotton,
falling low,
to give warning to the brave and reckless.

I breath the cool scent of rain.
Skin's soft pelt rase up
to touch brilliant light energy
and freeze in the thunder.

Disregarding where I'm supposed to be,
my feet pivot
and I reach out
and return to the lamplight's blush.