Monday, 29 October 2012

dancing to the edge

the writing was on the wall as
we danced around the edges
of nonchalance and disdain
I rubbed you the wrong way
placed you on the back foot
you prodded at my insecurities
picking over the carcass of a pervious life
fury darkens your eyes to ebony
at times I lift you eight foot tall
or cower you to a tiny speck
we both knew sometime
we would give up the matador stance
of bravado and flashing cloaks
stripped down
you and me

KD 29/10/12

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  1. A different kind of love story...all too common...hope it works out in the end...lovely write, Kay...

  2. Sometimes it happens that way doesn't it? Hopefully they both survive it.


  3. Oh, I really like the matador metaphor.

  4. Oh, yes! I'm liking the feel to this one. Picking at the carcass is a fabulous line!

  5. There are so may lovely lines here.

    I used the word nonchalant in mine. That's how it came across to me.


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