A position of love and
     comfort,  attended.
        Long, before the
           spoon, invented.

I pray,
   to find a way.
To express,
    with success.
What I need,
     to say.

The girl in the mirror
Is a liar
Even with the people she trusts
She lies
Even in the place she’s most bare
She lies
Even when its just us
She lies

And I’m too tired to figure out the truth
Or put anything I feel into words

It's not that I want you gone
I appreciate you
I really do
But it's hard to believe you're sincere
When you're also scrolling through shorts at the same time

Every time I’m happy, for reasons I don’t know,
Lights flash in my heart and it kind of . . . . discos.

Why not a waltz, polka, salsa, jive, tango or calypso?
Of all dances, I am not sure why it chooses to disco.

Perhaps, it’s a dance that it can dance on it’s own,
A dance in merry solitude when I might be alone.

Maybe, I grew up in the time when Saturday Night Fever was in tow,
When pop charts went tizzy with songs that’d make the world boom-boom go.

Maybe, my heart beats to the rhythm of life, at times funky, at times slow,
Maybe, it’s in tune with electronic sounds around me — that in a humdrum, flow.

The top left chamber of my heart, leaps, jumps and thumps so,
The bottom right chamber shakes a leg to a psychedelic-lights-show.
My arteries and ventricles throb and pulsate oh . . . OH!
Pumping blood in a sudden rush all the way to my toes.

And like the ever-glittering disco ball, I spin, shine and glow,
Every time I’m happy, my heart jumps . . . And a-dancing it goes