Soulful music slowly drifts out of the speakers. The lights are dim as she drifts across the floor. Her blood red lipstick adds to the illusion. She wraps her shawl around her shoulders and pretends that is a man holding her that is not around. Her body hungers for companionship, but she wants to be faithful. The music catches hold of her as she spins around slowly and looks at the mirror. She lets her honey blonde hair flow over her shoulder. The deep rhythmic voice of the singer says what she is feeling, she has been alone too long. Her passion has been lit like the fuse of a cannon and she is ready to explode. She pulls on her best dress and slips into her heels. She knows that this is wrong but what is a girl to do. She says her passion is to strong to contain any longer as she heads out the door, she has been to long dancing alone to the blues.

I adjusted the beanie to an exact position above my brows,
leaving swallow wings arched underneath it.
Looking into the mirror one final time,
saluting the bold stare facing back
beneath sooty lashes - perfection.
The amor arc of my lips
painted a perfectly smug expression.

The buzz in the room stopped on cue
when I stepped into the war zone.
All eyes focussing...finally,
on the one person who really matter.

Hesitant smiles, some frowns
and a whole lot of anticipation...
All waiting for my next move.
In my head I hear Sia singing;
”tough girls in the fast lane...”
- the last tune I played
on my way here.

I smiled to the guy who used to be my web manager.
Turned 45 degrees and gave the older gentleman ( that I always get into heated discussions with about ”the better old days” vs life as it is today) a hug and a breathless salutation.
The lady sitting at the end of the table - a quick kiss on the cheek and a warm assurance of her invaluable presence (not).
The top manager for global communication,
- let’s sparkle a bit extra.
Stroking his chin with light fingers,
assuring him in the unspoken
about how absolutely gorgeous,
irresistible he is.

My so called team,
waiting in terrified silence for the meeting to begin.
Quiet little mice - now.
For months, their cocky, ignorant ***** have been speaking volumes
about how they would challenge conventions,
Break rules
Being rebels unheard of,
and ridiculing anyone who’d disagree
with their blown up perception
of importance.

Now they all looked at me - while chewing  chunks of humble pie.
One unified message
- Save our ******* *****!

And then, her...
The woman who've paved the way for me all along.
Teaching me the hardest lessons possible in business.
Because she cared,
she believed, and she desperately
wanted me to succeed.

I walked the few steps around the table to greet her,
folding my arms closely around her fragile frame.
And for the one and only time that morning,
I let true feelings shine through.

Someone turned the beamer on.
I let go of the dizzy spell
from 3 weeks nonstop work,
regular blood and thyroid treatments.
In my mind my demon wings flared out,
strong, potent and invincible.
And the grand piano fixated in my heart, struck the first chord...

Reveries,
and silent dreams,
of which I wake from when I sleep.
If I dream,
if I don't just lean into thoughts
that knot up my stomach like strings,
of frail thin hair from a pale little girl
who sat on the floor.
Passively watched the world,
and it's hard to understand when you
can't feel things.
And it's hard to count stars when you're
staring at your ceiling.
It's hard to love your angel kisses when
you've never had wings.
It's hard to leave everything behind
when it's all you've ever known.
All you thought was kind.
But was harsh,
like bark of the oak
that you fell from.
The scrapes and the scar from the
branch that you broke off,
will fade.
Things change,
like the skins the snakes shed off,
I will scream out my pain,
I will change.

When Fire met Ice
time froze in the heat of the moment.

The clock can only click again
when the flames face the sun.

While the tide pulls tight,
wishing for an endless, silent night,
true flames can only burn bright for one.

Lights out, or sun over gun?

Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me
Yes, it hurts me- a little bit, a lot a bit
but I understand.
You are yourself and I am myself-
You will do you, I guess I’ll be me

I still wonder though.
Who am I-
Why not,
What’s so wrong with being a part of me,
my life- who I am?
What’s so bad about me?

Is it because I’m not “pretty” enough
or “cool” enough
or good enough to you, to be a part of me? Associated with me?
Because I won’t just make you happy
I will make myself, my family, those I do- and don’t know happy
I will try and make you as well.

What counts as part of me?
Just that I’m nineteen, female, probably bi
born in Geneva, Illinois, raised in South Elgin, Illinois
but also raised in Westford, Massachusetts
both painfully boring towns; quiet, uneventful.
Does that make me as well? Is part of me South Elgin, Westford?
And then what else- what other parts of me?
That can’t be the only part-
So I’m also creative, loud, spontaneous
the part that makes me different
Is it so bad to be that part?

Part. Of. Me.

it sounds like a bad pop song. Is that why you don’t want to be
part of me-
Why is it that sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me?
Does that mean you won’t speak, look or think about me?
i don’t think that’s possible.
Am I really that much of a stranger?
I’ve known you for quite sometime -
You’ve known me
So can you even not be a part of me?
You can be yourself, as well as
Part of me.

so
yes
You are part of me.
As am I to you,
Just not all of me.
A single piece, maybe, a part,
that shouldn’t be too much to ask.
You can have alone time, but even then that doesn’t mean;
for the time alone, your part of me is gone.
What an illogical statement,

Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be part of me.
You already are.