We dance in silence. Always have.
Duetting in motion, pace and passion.
Alternating from a staring, hateful gaze, to judging in disgusted fashion.
We take our tolls. We always have.
I have to hold your hand, be your support.
Not support corroding in your silver skin.
Have to accept that it is I that causes your contort.
Mirror, mirror, help me to accept within.
