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frayed











The ends of me are stretched too thin from reaching...

I'm pale from wanting and weak from waiting too long....

dance shoes in hand , my bare feet on the wood floor

without a king...or a prince.... and needing dinner....

when the lights go from magical night to grieving grey, I shouldn't be here

in this early morning

across a dusty floor and dried petals strewn.....soft feet pad me on...

cracked cup, fragile, like pieces of me, still holds water......and wine....

and the key still shines on it's silken ribbon....

softly.....


May 2011

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LA, CA. USA

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