Singular

The sound of clinking glasses.
I scream aloud, not a glance.
I whimper, at last.
Laughter dancing off the walls.
I moan in agony, and still, not a peek.
They remember my being here.
Then ask me, "How is life?"
I mumble and whisper.
They nod and resume their night.
I throw a glass, it shatters then sparkles on the wooden floor.
No one looks up, I still don't matter.
I leave the room.
Not a "good night" or kiss.
I could just walk out the door.
See how long it takes them to realize something is amiss.
Laying on the bed, I listen to laughter.
Scream once again, the laughter grows louder.
Thoughts inside my head, dimming with slumber.
I wake up once again.
No clinking, no laughter.
I am alone for now, as I was alone before.
Singular in a crowd, singular behind closed doors.