Standing by your window honey yes, I’ve been here before.
Watching your broken silhouette dance
through the curtains, illuminated by that cinnamon candle
I bought for you last spring.
Knowing I’m watching, you accentuate every move
with a subtle shake of your hips or a roll of your shoulders.
[a dangerous seduction for a woman with nothing left to give]
The music in your head slightly off-beat
from the rhythm in the walls.
I tap on the window and stomp my foot,
challenging you to one last waltz.
A screaming star grabs my eyes
for a moment away from your face.
When I look back, you’re asleep, two-stepped
straight into another lucid world.
I watch as the candle burns down slowly
to a puddle of brown mud and a charred wick.
By the light of the moon, I can barely make out
the outline of your nose, turned up to the cold, good night.