The dancer hits pavement

remembering the past it glows like orange phosphorescent lights dim but hits the cheek bones just right i can see us having a laugh when we remembered what it was like to have unburdened our minds on cheap thrills and lucky finds we had the moment in our hands like a dancing ballerina dressed in pvc and leather elegant and illicit but soon her coordinated steps became broken bones and jagged movements like she had become too full of all our hopes and all our fears so we released her too quick before she could rise up and into the world she disappeared in the folds of time lost in bitter rhyme tequila and lime we shouldnt bargain with our souls to retrieve a love so distant and cold all this built up kenetic energy could ignite the whole western hemisphere in something so raw and so dear but if the dancer is to again cantilever on the edge of disaster and bliss then we must open our hands from the clenched fist we bore the day we learned to ignore all our sorrow and shame for a rainy days worth of empty games and if she should dance again could we discern the light from the bleak reality of the world the dark that permeates everything the abyss that was our lives might we be blinded by the sudden onslaught of photons and aurora that will surround us can we be happy again or has the emotion dried up in us sucked out by the adult world theres nothing nice left in my head the only hope for me lies in the ballerinas pointed feet as she walks the tightrope between being your lover and your friend she is confident and strong but the rope is narrow and long if she falls she will break and everything we know will become one with the pavement