Love In Dances

She's reading her book
and that look that you threw
and the dagger in her tongue
is of no concern to you.

It's times like these
when silence means everything,
so she's passive and patient
despite the taste and the sting.

But inside her grows
a cancerous mass
of unuttered thoughts
mixed with poisonous gas

that tortures and tears
and remembers the glares
of eyes soft and faces fair;
all the thoughts she couldn't bear.

Photos of imagined memories
haunt her in her sleep.
She wants to scream,
but can't make a peep.

She's a ghost in a fairy tale;
there is no happy ending
for her:
just past and present blending.

It's like you never said a word:
speech through glances
and funny looks,
love in dances.

She cries.
Her tired eyes
shift to hide
their lies.


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I don't know why I'm posting this one.

But - hey! look! - there are stanzas in this one! I haven't done that in a while!







"It's times like these when silence means everything and no one is to know about this..." Taking Back Sunday Ghost Man On Third

"I'm the family's unowned boy, golden curls of envied hair, pretty girls with faces fair see the shine in the black sheep boy..." Tim Hardin Black Sheep Boy