Prom
Tell me how to move…
just like you do
with precision and arrogance
as you try to hide a dance of passion
and practiced steps.
I miss you like high school,
like dilated hands around my neck.
An indecent proposition for your bed
to poison this relationship.
My piano player punching keys,
it is a shame how my strings
can’t match her ivory.
It was a siren’s voice of distress and need,
tiled floors slipping beneath your feet.
The rules for courtship take a back seat.
The rain brings relief
from the drudgery of the sun.
A breath of thick air
in a smokers lung.
In my confusion I replied:
I believe in nothing,
Inherently I believe in everything.
My faith lies in a silver screen,
in films that I will never see.
At eighteen I had a powerful dream,
to put all of your suffering on me.
Oh faithless I did none of these things.
I recieved the best bad news
from the soles of your shoes,
that I was now free from your suffering.
