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.