#164: Bruises and Black

Safe in your partner’s arms
as you dance the tango tango
projecting perfection and consistency
in an otherwise orderless world

She spins and spins
blurs and flows

until she fails
and slams into the floor

The dancer comes unattached from her feet
Her plinth in tatters

He doesn’t see her on a pedestal

no more

She is coffee grounds strewn on the floor
little bits and pieces
that will crunch and crunch

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