for as long as it took she lay as still as frozen air
turned away from her heart, thinking once was sufficient
once had burned into her core and left it carved out
all the nights of wanting, all the empty arms making
false moments, dancers without orchestra
she watched a thin girl, her narrow hips swaying to music
the way her hair fell in cowslip, shy smile, wide eyes seemingly
looking through time, a turning moment
we know we are not alive to feel nothing
never intended to be closed off
locked out of life by indifference and cruelty
by those who do not return ardor or regard
sleeping with our back against the wall
wondering
will anyone ever pull me to them again?
want me with the exquisite folly of pain?
maybe the dancing girl would never be
more than a muse, silhouette on memory
or something beautiful to appreciate
a candle reminding her, she can sculpt whimsy
when you think you cannot feel
it takes only
one moment, one unexpected person
their beauty making you feel the same way
as before
when we ran down alley ways calling
Madonna! Madonna!
turning her shoulder blushing
her mini skirt and boots
when sunk to our knees in ardor
late for work more than once unable to rise
beyond the dream, watching her sleeping
when I pulled her into my sphere
with a serious face she said
I’m crazy about you, don’t ever let go
the dancing girl a key, opening back into brightness
maybe she’s a symbol, maybe fantasy
but she’s the one who knew
how to turn on the light
TheFeatheredSleep 