She is a cruel Mistress yet a bargain must be made.
But how do you bargain with vileness herself?
Do you plead or do you beg?
Do you kneel or do you bow?
Do you stoop or do you bend ?
Do you sob
Death is like the perfect pirouette.
In my head, I am the perfect ballerina.
I stand tall in the middle of a stage, hands in a graceful arch above my head, legs straight and firm.
The pink of my tutu glowing
I meet numerous versions of you every other day, every other minute maybe even every second, there you are, lurking.
As I begin to walk down my street this evening, I start to think “why?” Why does this always happen to
To the one that got away,
I loved you.
I think I can admit that now without feeling stupid and sorry for myself. Although in this moment, I feel a bit raw because that opening statement is not complete.
I loved you and