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A curve of the lips, a crease in the eyes. A tug to the left, or the right.
With fiery red hair she slices through the water Her dance is her heart's song The words know only of her Her home, family, friends Her beginning and possible ends
Frozen in time, Made only to be observed. Pasty white and porcelain Some might believe me to be dead. I think I used to dance, Judging by how I stand. But that had to be long ago,
My thoughts they spin they twirl lovely in their madness their chaos their beauty... And I wish I could portray it replicate it draw it grasp it see it...
The bun upon my head, Sleek and aerodynamic. They may think my style is a fad, Changing and passing with time. Though It's classic, Pure and genuine.
Flawless Dancer The lights brighten and the curtain rises. I stand motionless... Shaking.
The light kissed their faces Heaven's hue through which it shown An empty stage apart from her alone.
I am your objective, your currency of pleasure, your object of desire for secret endeavorsYour makeshift girlfriend, a hired girlfriend experienceYour midnight walk in the park or your Cat-ness in the lion’s den
By: Alondra Vahan
Today Shades upon shades of cover and shadow Smokescreens of laughter filling an empty hallow. Nobody knows and nobody will ever know. The book nerd who devours stories that pushes
She spins around in the meadow Hands outstretched, dress whirling around her bare legs. Her eyes are closed. She spins and dances on. Small bright flowers dot her hair She wears a simple white dress