pink satin shoes,
i've wanted,
false;
needed,
since i was six years old,
i craved the bruises and the blood,
that comes with pirouettes
the hot blisters,
bubbling with possibility,
the possible pain,
that comes,
with my first pair of pointe shows

it begins
with silky smooth fabric
like tiny cushions on her
delicate skin

she spins
her back arched ever so slightly
the curvatures of her feet
cuts through the empty air

she is swift
she is fast
she is doing what she
knows best

her fragile stability
is as light as a spider
she dances through the darkness
leading light in her path

the inaudible patter
as her feet
gracefully hit the floor
weave a tapestry

of a love unknown.

the sun
rises as
it is done

she does not remain
she is gone
her blood is a
song

sang just before the dawn.

(b.d.s.)