The Dancer

Floating towards the stage in my living room, I don’t see your sensitive powdered footsteps on my stone floor anymore

Drunk and praying that you would change, I played piano until my heart was empty and you were full of everything I had to give

Drunk and ‘in love with me’, you danced until you decided that my music wasn’t moving you the way you liked it anymore

So you left.

I miss you, my love, and all of these stories you imprinted onto my floor

Contained within these walls, I mourn your silhouette by sour candlelight and cold, un-powdered stone

Drinking alone, I find myself drifting towards the stage where you had me so good, but my love, there is no more music here

I am the last one left to applause your footprints, although your performance now smells like spoiled naïve promises and time decay.

Sitting here with all our memories, for just a moment, I wish you had stayed

You left me nothing but all of this, and your ethereal little ghost feet in the corner that were honestly never my favourite

Still, I look for them all the time when I’m feeling nostalgic — just to see if I can still trace your imprints in the stone

Then I realize I’m just drunk, I don’t love you anymore

And I let you go.