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Candice Gibson Sep 2020
We’ve done this dance so many times
Too many times to count
I’ll give you my heart on step 3
And wait for it to be returned
You’ll twirl me around
Lie to my face
And then kiss me
We dance backwards for a few steps
And I let your hands go
I dance alone for a while
Before you rush back to me
Assuring that things didn’t have to be this way
You hold me in an embrace
Your gaze piercing into my soul
I watch you intently
Content with our dynamic
And then I wait for you to make the next move
The songs rages on
I nudge you ever so slightly to continue
And we miss our cue
My irritation increases
While you gloss over it
I attempt to lead us
But fail miserably
And I finally realize that you no longer want to
Monotonously we circle the dance floor
Repeating moves that no longer match the song
We’re nearing it’s end
And for the finale
You hold me into the air
And though it hurts,
I look at you lovingly all the same
Now it’s time for you to let me down and
You’re gone
The music’s gone
I crash to the ground with a sickening thud
And with it,
My dreams crash too
So I sit on the cold floor
Collecting whatever pieces I may
And I wait for the song to start up again
For you to walk through those doors
And for us to dance yet again
Candice Gibson Sep 2020
I still own the necklace that you bought me
And when it presses against my skin
I think of you
And I think of star peppered skies and
Late night joy rides and
Being once inebriated by the bottle
And by your love
Sometimes I’ll stop in place
I’ll halt my busy day
And I’ll get lost in a whirlwind of thoughts,
Of you.
And on days when I’m able to drown you out
Able to erase your existence from my memories
Wipe my heart clean
I dream of you
And these dreams sweep over me with such a bittersweet agony
Each wave more suffocating than the last
And I cry for you
And I wonder it is right for me to do so
And if it is right for me to often daydream
Of you and I once again
Thousands of miles from here
Me cradled in your arms
As your fingers draw
Heart shaped strokes
Against my skin
Candice Gibson Sep 2020
I wore red the day you left me
My lips, my hips, and my shame were all
Painted the same shade
I’d be lying if I said I was (OK)
You left a note the day you left my life
You gave me a call, laid out your lies, had made up your mind
I told myself it was what it was, (OK)
My innocence died the day you left me
She threw a fit, laid out a will, and took a dive
I didn’t know if I’d ever be (OK)
I ran a mile, walked in circles,
And spread my sanity out like thin wire
And in it I encapsulated myself with thoughts of you, thoughts of me
I drowned myself in thoughts of we
And I engorged myself in thoughts of what could never be
Until my skin turned a purplish tint and I
Burst

I wore nothing on the day two months after you left me
I dyed my hair
I ran a bath
And I ******-ed at the beauty of self preservation.
Someday our paths will meet
And you’ve ceased to be mine
But I’ll be
OK
Candice Gibson Sep 2020
Look at me! Look at me!
You’re not looking.
You attention grabbing, narcissistic,
Gas lighting and dismissive,
Tantalizing yet hypnotic,
Cunning man
I’ll look past all the bad if,
You could give me some good
If you could stop the ‘Me, me!’
And make it we
Tell I’m beautiful
Ask about my day
Not argue if I disapprove,
Assure that it’ll be okay
If you cou- “Hey! Look at me!, I’m trying to talk to you”
His eyes wore boredom, his face slack
He never made eye contact
“I’m listening”, he drawled
And so my rose tinted glasses brimmed with tears,
My chest swelling with emotion.
I stopped speaking, stood up, and exhaled,
“I’m leaving”,
I dressed, breathed, and pierced this man with my vision
Hoping he'd meet my gaze
Prayed that my cries heard him, my heart skipping a beat
He stood up, never looked my way, and spoke
“OK”.
Candice Gibson Sep 2020
Tomorrow is empty screams and open eyes,
Or silence
Tomorrow is rabid dogs and wild animals,
Or domestication.
World *******,
Tomorrow is, as they speak,
The worst to come
Or the best yet.
It is the recession and the homeless,
Or the uplifting.
Tomorrow is the elders to look down on us.
Or us looking up.
Truly,
It is,
As we perceive it.
Tomorrow may be the color yellow.
Or a blood-curdling black.

— The End —