imagine —
you are the last of your species,
an angel, who dances on
ice.
like
a
film that protects
this earth ,
your wings are broken ,
and these are the pieces of you that cannot go
home .
.
so on
tiptoes, this cracked marble
does not shatter,
and
everyone gets to watch you perform ,
unknowing of the cold truth that you are shackled
to ,
like
a ballerina in a box
that hums a sweet tune —
you still dance ,
even as the last of your species,
even though
you are all that you have left.
and
even though
you have decided that love is a form of
betrayal.
.