Scarry Night

Chilly hands

close to purple,

arms wrapped tight around my chest

like ribbon on a birthday gift,

pillow case gripped tight in my fist

the fist that I can barely move

as the wind flits past my shoulders,

Strings speak to me 

as no other does,

but not with words,

not in a world that is ridden

with so many words.

When I was young

it was

ugh... 

practice,

but now

With every arabesque,

my muscles cramp,

with every pique,

my toes crunch,

holding up every bone in my body

on a platform close to nothing.

We are on the brink of flying,

so 

so 

close. 

I read a book,

a book so good,

I wish I had never read it

so I could read it again.