She walks on relevé (rel-i-VAY)
Stretching through her no soled shoes.
Dancing in circles, she walks on air,
Clouds of her suffering and all the pain she's gone through to get here.
Hours and hours of dancing corrals around her enemies,
To keep them from stepping out of line.
She's the image of perfection, is she?
The Ballerina In High Top Converse.
The canvas wraps around her calves like a restraint
keeping her from growing stronger than her
insecurities,
And training through her depression.
Wouldn't I know about letting your emotions get the best of you?
She dances the hard way
she will not stop for water;
or breaks.
it's her own form of self-harm.
She loves too much and
heartbreaks throw her into
emotional interpretive dance routines that never seem to end.
The songs just bleed into each other,
as her tears splatter across the walls
as she fouettés
into her dreams.
She never came back.
Dancing into the sun,
she became some
one else.
YOU ARE READING
The Way I See It
PoetryThere's a little bit of good and a little bit of bad in all of us. But sometimes the bit of bad, is good, And the bit of good, is bad. The trick to knowing which is which is to do it wrong, and then you'll get it right. You'll get it eventually. ...
