Cursive Steps
Little knots of string tied to your fingers,
tied to my heart.
They dance, I dance..
They run, I run.
Am I your puppet?
You're laughing wildly
your fingertip goes up,
my foot goes up,
pulled with the string of Proposition
An eerie dance I dance with a frown
remains right side down
All night long the heartstrings strut.
Feet smothered with cinder dust,
smears and swipes on the floor, cursive art;
Sleep plucks at the strings, something beautiful,
a musical trance-
Fingers sore, eyes succumb,
A mind thats numb takes the bait.
You untie our strings
from your mind
And I dance away
From force and binds
And escape into the night.
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