You and I, we dance this crooked dance, in morbid grace. A waltz for mercy, and a pirouette on the edge of love . Never quite committed, yet never quite refused, we dance towards towards the future life and away again. To be sure our steps in tandem choreography glide, to and from each other and back again. We twirl, sway, spin, and swerve. Little giving, always taking, we're drenched in perspiration from the effort of maintaining this facade of graceful existence.
Sincerely,
yours
Love follows footsteps to echoey graves, hanging high, swinging feet inches from the ground. Lively steps surround the dead, the escaping few, the joyous just from work to rest. But you hold me close, you hold me close, you hold me close. And now I'm closer to your hell burning heart than we though to ever be. And I say we, when you say I ought say me. but I am two, the angel saint, and the devil times two. These are the we, or for your comfort, these are me. You ring my bell, you ring my bell , you ring my bell, and it is resonating in the head that my birth mother gave me, the ego that my father grew in me. So what's the catch? The catch you caught, it's my swelling swollen head.
