I scan the dancefloor, smoke and strobes collide—
WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?
He said, “Hold my drink, I’ll be back,” then vanished like the kick-drum at the drop.
I’m texting “???” to a blue-bubble ghost,
heels clicking down the corridor like metronomes of panic.
They say, “Girl, let him roam,” but my ring finger keeps twitching,
twin satellites searching for that one familiar heat.
If love’s a lighthouse, I’m the storm—
WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?
Come claim your thunder, or I’ll remix the night without you.