The film
shows her opening the door
stepping out
thin ankles short skirt
she’s not young but she’s got youth
on tap and wisdom to match
she makes you fall to your knees
just because she looks a second too long
in your direction
even if you didn’t smooth down your hair
shave your legs, flash your eyes
she might glance your way
with that confidence and that fragility
an impossible combination
like she was built out of the refugees
of love
hurt lying like a lover in her eyes
pinpricks of suffering alluring in the way
she survives herself and the demons
dancing rosy around her
you like how she holds on and almost falls
the spindle of her spine
strongest are the small ones
you want to take her in your arms
switch on the radio and listen in the dark
she’ll dance beneath your skin
she’s a drug she’s not perfect she’s the one
who keeps you awake thinking
if you could just reach her
inhabit the melancholy of her smile
before she winked out like a song you hum
without knowing its name
TheFeatheredSleep 