I pirouette beautifully in front of you, a graceful ballerina in strings. Bending over backwards for a private show, in a private room, in your private thoughts. I smile and I laugh and run my fingers through your hair and let you do the same to me. We would stare at each other’s eyes until dawn breaks, until the harsh sunlight reminds you of what is and what is not. Helping you remember that, darling, I do not know how to dance, and I do not hear the same music that is playing in your head.
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