These Old Bones

Shadows dance on walls. The scene is
Behind you, not within. This rhythm is
Contained, this rhythm is wild. I forgot that
I ever knew you. One day, we’ll look back and
Forget everything that ever happened.
Let a keyboard whisper into my palms,
I’m looking for an answer from anyone.
Why does time move in the opposite
Direction from my body? It seems unholy,
The grand flaw in the universe. For years,
I have watched you scream spherically into rooms,
To an audience that stiffly nods its heads
To time, to meter. But it’s the delicate way
This woman steps her feet together, facing forward,
Filled with the tension of new love; fists full of
Pats on the back by men who are begging
To break free, to live in their own shadows,
To turn shadows into light; dialogues resumed
silently, years after the fact, that can only be about
Regret, the unholiest word. Regret dancing
Red-hued behind you, invisible, ever present,
Tripping.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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