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The Dance

We dance an uneven tango
upon stardust smothering
an unstable floor
fallen from a frame
of broken dreams
preferring to meld into
the solace of familiar things
in the ache of those
jaded moments
we sift among
the dust laden ashes
searching for that
lorn lost love
once given
in heaping buckets
desiring caresses from beyond
we skip a beat
thrown off by
a disarming cadence
to find that
the dance is dissolving
into a heatbroken waltz
bending to conform
the ache that once was
cursing those rhythms
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Published increative writingemotionspoetryPoetry

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  1. Anita Kushwaha Anita Kushwaha

    Beautiful! There’s something haunting that lingers with this one. ๐Ÿ™‚

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