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.