It was stilted and jagged, a macabre dance that you chose to engage in without me. You waltzed to your own rhythm as I stared blandly, bared my teeth and blessed you with a grin. My body accompanied your silent ghost as we moved as one, split by time. I stumbled as you committed to the steps, immersed in your own silent rhyme of steps and an effeminate grace. Face flushed, limbs trembling, I spun alone, begging you to trip, to fall. It was my silent call to you, to hear my steps against the dull silence. You were receptive to nothing, consumed by a void and rendered useless by your macabre dance. It was a messy little thing, dark and asphyxiated by hate. You thrived off of delicacy, legs spinning and body writhing as if it were an act of fate. I was a casual bystander, struck by grief and my forgotten twirls. I saw you pause, step towards me and stare. Time had warped you with its woven, spun ribbon, and held you captive in a barren state. But you were beautiful, a prodigy of leaps and turns. Your arms reached out and gripped mine with fervour, a violent delight to behold. We spun as arms flailed and as I twirled, you fell into a crumpled mess, a broken fold with no control. I lay upon the floor, legs tangled by time's translucent ribbon. You waltz away, with Death as your partner. You dance into eternity with Her, heralded by your macabre dance.