dancing solo
a birds's nest
bound with spidersilk . . .
nothing
to hold us together
after the young had flown
afterthoughts
blacker than our last
conversation . . .
the skeletal remains
of ancient forests
the stings
of a thousand wasps . . .
some betrayals
grow more venomous
with passing years
unsettled . . .
old arguments
sagging
in the cloudbursts
of my mind
leaves spin
against autumn skies . . .
I reflect
on all the times
you refused to dance
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