both We meet under a blackout in our midnight
Digs, on the streets we meet in confusion
But we hold on to each other now found
In the dark. luck is seen in our eyes.

They dance between each other dancing
In each others words. we look above our
Head a disco ball of natures gleam.
Can I have this dance, giggles ensue.

Dancing until rising  sunrises, we see each
Other happy what wasn't seen in darkness.
We were up dancing the night away with
Stars as our guides, weren't we so very lucky.

"Same time next week,

"Its a date and then some,

Both depart a smile on their face, tired but
Worth the experience of stars above and
When sunrise ascended a smile on both their faces.

I didn't realize how much
I missed them
Until I looked into their eyes
Until they laughed
Until I held them tight in my arms

Even if just for a day

There are
Empty chairs all around me
Wisps of people who were here
--But now aren't--
And yes, even the chair closest to me
Contains but the ghost of a person

Here,
I stand alone
For better or for worse
I stand alone
Among all these chairs

I must be brave
In my own presence
Content inside my own skin
Comfortable without a chair of my own
--Even in a room full of chairs--
Because I (must) stand alone

Little by little
I come no closer to understanding
Why I long for closeness
(An introvert like me)

My friends might deny it
But I know
Why the dogs don't tug on their leashes
And why I never wave hello to their owners

There are moments when
I am reminded of a stranger saying
"It's difficult, huh?
Having a sister that's an extrovert?"

In the middle of the night I wake up thinking
"No, but what's difficult
Is wanting to be the best friend I can be
(An introvert like me)"

Today bears the weight of erstwhile trepidation.
Uncertainties exhumed only to be hung up as ominous flags.
Black as night my widowed heart paraded through the procession.
Garbed in ash encrusted, sequinned frock, hemmed train all tattered in rags.

Herald the face with no features yet obscured behind a chiffon veil.
In hands, a bouquet of black roses, worm-eaten to the stems.
The mourning sun only gave the weakest glow,
feeble attempt to rejuvenate all that is stale;
to imbue the shimmer back into forsaken jewels and dulled gems.

Her entourage kept up with heavy feet; all grim and sullen.
Also faceless... Armed with pitchforks and torches.
Today they will draw much; having thirst for crimson.
Today they witness her death as the black parade marches.

Concept: I whisper to the moon that I cannot sleep and she sends me dreams of ocean waves and whale songs

When the day was dying
I was back to the market.

The last time I was there
haggled with her over the price.

She wanted to sell high
I wanted to buy low.

You win she said at last
I bought high
but have to sell low.

I knew she was lying.

This time she wasn't there.

Someone said
her man had left for another woman
and she hadn't since been seen.

The deepening evening hung like a dagger of pain.

She was never good at bargain.