Saturday, July 25, 2009

The dance

Falling back into the same patterns
Craving the arms wrapped about
Waiting by the phone
Promises never kept
Tears are wept by one or the other
Yet I come back
Sometimes running as soon as the last fix wore off
Hearing the song that I cried for so many hours listening
For some things are better left to mystery and you are one of them
Because in the end I'm always left alone
Standing there placing the needle back again
So my record can repeat
In order for me to dance blindly
Into everything I thought I wanted
but leaves me crying beside that same record player
Because I will never be enough
And my expectations lowered now
Will not be met
Yet I dance this dance again

1 comment:

Rayne said...

Ironic.This is beautiful,but it's so ironic that yesterday I wrote a poem/whatever about dance.And posted it today. You are incredible,my slowcheetah.