The Little Valley

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Sometimes I can't picture my life any other way that just how it is now.


And frankly, that's a little depressing.

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she will dance for you in this fairy tale hidden from the world hiding to the bone hanging by the throat bleeding from her eyes swallowed by the pride of another dying from the shame burning on her feet buried in the wind a flash of red a dash of spark locked eyes fascination and pain swaying hips captivated thoughts the beat she hears the beat you feel fire flickering between you so far away dancing alone ethereal skin bite your lip taste your tongue unfocused eyes elbows on knees head in hands sleeping while you're awake only way to dream slow it down one movement per lifetime puppet on its strings cut from her home left all alone shattered against the ground tears sting trace the lines of her face can't fake a smile can't bear to frown floating on the waves floating on her feet letters traced in air sewing lines that aren't there mark these words on her grave breaking free from the earth feet scatter dust as she dances alone
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