Saturday, March 01, 2014

There are things I want dead in my life.

There are three candles; one of them has gone out. 


I had a dream that you loved me because I was a ballerina.
That there were glasses of wine on the floorboards and I took a glass on my way down.
There was a girl critiquing black irises and adding pearls for depth and layer.
There was a girl upset over a lost wedding ring she claimed was stolen.
I had a dream I took your hand and lead you down between the floorboards. 
I had a dream I was a ballerina. 
I was thin and wearing blue and you grabbed my waist. 
You wouldn't stop talking. 
The girl with the ring wouldn't stop talking, or the girls about the irises. 
No one could stop talking.