this part always hurts the most. it burns, really, for a second, then i see you eyes widening as i begin to fade. and that’s okay, i’d say, quietly, because you won’t remember me after all this. and then i close my eyes, and everything goes away. the darkness lets me go for fleeting moments and i see what could have been, so close to being real. little snippets of our life together. waltzing, dancing, you leading me by the arm; my head on you shoulder as we just rest in our own space.
he waltzed into the room like it was the natural thing to do. when everyone stopped, turned to stare, he danced a little jig and shot a winning smile at the crowd. waltz in, waltz out, just to turn heads, just for the attention.
It triggered a memory, a feeling, so I guess that’s a start, that’s progress, that’s movement. upbeat Down beat, down beat, no rise. Shoes shined and mouth agape in the middle of the floor i’m looking at the end and beginning of the serenade, unable to move through its drapes.
Her fingers dance over the pieces, tapping at the board, drumming a constant and fluttering tattoo on the black-and-white squares. He brushes a lock of hair from his face. Her lip twitches and slips into a half-smile. Neat elevens form between his brows.
he held his hand out
reaching for mine
i accepted the offer
unaware of what the outcome would be
but well aware of the possibilities
and from there
we waltzed the night away
waltz on down to the gift shop and tell that woman I told you no! I don’t care how beautiful you think that figurine is or how big its eyes are, we don’t need more knick knacks cluttering up this house, and I’m certainly not going to dust another dragon figurine for you!
black death waltz
the machine click clacks
type typical timely
the ups and downs of the keystrokes
sexualized in form
praised in function
the sound creates
an axiety
the perfect word
to repulse and reflect
the abstract
confirmed in literal
black death waltz
types like typical
click clack abstract
It was another night to dance; it was another night to waltz. We kept up with the time signature as much as we could. We counted in threes, and only threes. Your black shoes left black scuffs on the white floor. The hems of my white dress grew black around the edges from dirt and dust and shadows.
When the orchestra stopped playing, we stopped and collected ourselves. Perhaps we were now too old for waltzing.
ghosts waltz through the snow and leave traces of their former self.
footprints leading up to my door.
thick bushes caked in white.
uncertain cars on dangerous roads.
winter.
this part always hurts the most. it burns, really, for a second, then i see you eyes widening as i begin to fade. and that’s okay, i’d say, quietly, because you won’t remember me after all this. and then i close my eyes, and everything goes away. the darkness lets me go for fleeting moments and i see what could have been, so close to being real. little snippets of our life together. waltzing, dancing, you leading me by the arm; my head on you shoulder as we just rest in our own space.
this part always hurts the most.
he waltzed into the room like it was the natural thing to do. when everyone stopped, turned to stare, he danced a little jig and shot a winning smile at the crowd. waltz in, waltz out, just to turn heads, just for the attention.
we danced
the day before yesterday
we danced
before you told me
before you even knew
i did not forget
did you?
It triggered a memory, a feeling, so I guess that’s a start, that’s progress, that’s movement. upbeat Down beat, down beat, no rise. Shoes shined and mouth agape in the middle of the floor i’m looking at the end and beginning of the serenade, unable to move through its drapes.
Her fingers dance over the pieces, tapping at the board, drumming a constant and fluttering tattoo on the black-and-white squares. He brushes a lock of hair from his face. Her lip twitches and slips into a half-smile. Neat elevens form between his brows.
he held his hand out
reaching for mine
i accepted the offer
unaware of what the outcome would be
but well aware of the possibilities
and from there
we waltzed the night away
waltz on down to the gift shop and tell that woman I told you no! I don’t care how beautiful you think that figurine is or how big its eyes are, we don’t need more knick knacks cluttering up this house, and I’m certainly not going to dust another dragon figurine for you!
false flags waving and waltzing
schmoozing and schmaltzing
look away; no shaming, no faulting
pointing at it is “anti-semantic verbal assaulting”
black death waltz
the machine click clacks
type typical timely
the ups and downs of the keystrokes
sexualized in form
praised in function
the sound creates
an axiety
the perfect word
to repulse and reflect
the abstract
confirmed in literal
black death waltz
types like typical
click clack abstract
It was another night to dance; it was another night to waltz. We kept up with the time signature as much as we could. We counted in threes, and only threes. Your black shoes left black scuffs on the white floor. The hems of my white dress grew black around the edges from dirt and dust and shadows.
When the orchestra stopped playing, we stopped and collected ourselves. Perhaps we were now too old for waltzing.
ghosts waltz through the snow and leave traces of their former self.
footprints leading up to my door.
thick bushes caked in white.
uncertain cars on dangerous roads.
winter.
His waltz was as stunning as the stars. It didn’t take long for the poor girl to accept his hand and dance of into the night.