No one.

Picking up feathers and fringe people walk by looking for someone: no is looking for her,
like always she was one of the last to leave,
struggling to carry everything herself she walks silently to her car with flowers and costumes in hand.

There she sits,
the glitter and pretty bobby pins falling out of her hair that is all pinned up,
the make-up streaked down hair face from tears she does not understand,
she asks herself "Why?"
why all the time practicing when no one else knows it so she looks like the fool,
why all the time with hair and make-up when no one comes to watch,
why can the plans never work out,
the tears come down faster and she starts to rip out the bobby pins: wincing every time,
the flowers on the table mean nothing: just some silly traditional thing.

there is no one to talk to,

no one is to be found
no ones around

No one.