With these flowers between us I cannot see your face
And with this table separating us I cannot feel your heart beat.
The flowers give off a sickly smell,
One that implies they are dying.
But both of us ignore them,
Because we too, are dying.

There is nothing between us now
But I still cannot see your face,
My face is in the crook of your shoulder
As we dance achingly slowly around the kitchen;
This death defying dance is no longer about living,
Now it’s more about not dying

In our moonlight waltz we fall into unharmonious synchronization
Our steps taken prisoner by the serenading stars,
Following the beat of the comet-streaked sky.  
His heartbeat matches the pace of our dance and
He twirls me to the tune of his truths that hurt more
Than his lies.

We tango through the house,
Our feet stepping on the cursed mirror shards
That show all we used to be,
When the flowers did not smell sickly,
But had the intoxicating aroma of life.
What stupid flowers.

He dips me into the bed we used to share
I grip onto him for dear life.
Our feet are bloodied, leaving marks all around.
I was the one who taught him this dance in the first place.
This foxtrot of lies and self-doubt and tears,
He always was a better follower than leader.

Around again and again
We wear trenches in the hallways and
Forts in the kitchen.
One of us knocks over the table, such a little misstep,
But the flowers in their vase fall, shattering everywhere.
You don’t have a heartbeat anymore.