The dark dance calls softly,
like Night Shade or Oleander.
Just a little taste...
Just one more slow waltz...
I can smell her
wet orchid while I sleep.
She moves languidly through
my dreams, possesses me at dawn
with lambent steps.
The love is violent, like a bullfight.
It's sweet and treacherous, ferocious.
Fatal for one of us;
and she's been gored.

They dance
Center stage
Under glimmering lights
Glittering bright
Hand in hand
Hearts intertwined

While.

In the
Sidelines
I remain
Watching
Sulking

And.

That's alright.

Love's not for everyone,
Right?

some tears
fall inside

sight unseen

softening
the soul

preparing
us to be

remade

the slime of all my yesterdays
rots in the hollow of my skull

and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation

I would not remember you

or that because of sleep
infrequent as a moon of greencheese
that because of food
nourishing as violet leaves
that because of these

and in a few fatal yards of grass
in a few spaces of sky and treetops

a future was lost yesterday
as easily and irretrievably
as a tennis ball at twilight

She said she needed
Some me time;
She was suffocating,
Couldn't breathe.
I paid too much attention.
She was right,
Though  pre-conceived.

But now, she seems alone.