A Poem Half Written
I've started dancing , again
and I find myself whole, somewhere
between dance and poetry ,
Half-made, standing
Sculpted, broken into a thousand pieces,
Still , eyes half-open, embracing myself
dancing, making pirouettes after pirouettes
after pirouettes
dancing... singing poetry...
poetry meant for someone else
someone who's never gonna know
that there is a poet who writes little poems
for him ;
which she keeps confined
for she cannot let them open
because all they know is to create chaos..
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