Her



When she entered the room, it was the same way a song gets stuck in your head.

Dressed like a new born nebula, blooming from a blossom few saw flourish.

She wore a gown the hue of Heart-Break and Deepest Desire.

It looked a lot like Comfortable Misery.

The same Comfortable Misery she slid over her skin, day out, day in.

But the rhythm to which she moved was Romance.

She looked like every valentine card ever bought but never sent, lost chance.

She never had a secret admirer, only the secrets.

Never sent is never seen but if you could’ve known what it would've been if she'd been able to dance barefoot without stepping on shards of her broken heart.

Each piece a jagged reminder of another side-winder hidden in the sands of days gone by.

She promised herself just one night she wont cry, one night that she'll close her eyes and finally realize

She is beautiful.

Realize that she's spinning to the music played by Dreams and dancing in the darkness of Destiny is all she’ll ever need.

If she slow danced to one more moment, she can preserve it, hold it,

until the times when she forgets how much she meant to me.

She'll remember the song, and the grace, bringing her back to this time and place

where she wears her features and flaws like medals and scars.

Some she'll tell you about while she weaves her words 'round you, holding you close in a story that makes you want to rewrite your own tale;

Triumph or fail.

Others, she wont tell.

The memory itself hurts like hell, so if just the thought of sharing is scaring her to the bone.

You’ll never hear about the girl you’ve never known.

She doesnt want to dance alone.

But that’s all there is,

a tiny dance floor called Life to call her own.

Nothing less and nothing more,

So she makes her hips sway,

Taking your eyes away from Ideas to Feelings,

She’s erratic, not ****** in her motion,

She makes Love feel like a puddle compared to an ocean.

And she just doesn’t want to dance alone anymore,

Yet she’s left like tears again on a cold stone floor

In the dark basement she calls existence.

And in this instance, she needs to see sunlight,

to see a sun that’s up at dawn every day and only dims at dusk,

Because for all things rest is a must.

So for a few quick steps we tripped the light fantastic,

and she did not dance alone.

She had a throne fit for the queen she is,

She was held through the night while tears trailed down her cheeks,

While she said that she never wanted to weep,

Because it made her feel so weak.

It’s like the tears trickled from her soul,

Draining her before her story had ever been told,

Before her flesh grew old and her hairs turned grey,

Before she felt she’d truly really had a good day.

But then she smiled,

And she said so sweetly that,

No matter how neatly she’d try to put the world into white and black,

She always had that one strange night she could come back, where her confusion calmed

To little more than a breeze she felt tickle across her heart.

And all it took was that one

slow

dance

That kept her world from falling apart.