Dancer demasked

With the wake of waxy wane
she trained her smile on the flame
as dusty charcole arcs of tooth
reflected the tragic and uncouth

version of the story in her eyes.
Catapulting cries through the
mercury haze in brains raging for
obsequious approval, the removal

of those trials that define character,
how strange. Can you iceskate on the
cusp of mental precipice and
look down at the bound ballerina feet

that no longer hold the weight of those
heavy eyes and that heavier heart.
Stone can only perch so long on those
delicate and fastidiously groomed toes.

 

i love your poem. its full of emotion

 

Wow, we do so change with age.
Yet, each star ages so differently,
for some implosions there is no return.

 

love the flow you have with this one here... I can see it working quite well as a spoken word piece... and I like the message too, reminds me of growing up... thinking you're impervious to anything, and coming to grips with reality.

 

yeah i hear that spoken word idea. definitely.

 

I wrote it kind of like a monologue, so to be read aloud. Glad you picked that up.

 

I liked it more the third time i read it than the first, nice