You have to believe me, I was there
In the fixed hours that fall apart on the kitchen floor, I find a little piety dancing by myself, My feet express things that my tongue would never ponder shuffling, stamping swinging the room around I can’t find my shame and a blue Bluetooth speaker is goading me on There are sad truths around his eyes I don’t think he will ever entrust them to me A squirrelly little backstep his bum knocks the bin and so he slides up until the fridge stumbling into a few seconds of grace I lose him for four holy counts and he comes back to me gasping He reassembles himself in the corner hoarse tortoise shell spectacles strangling prune-skin teabags flicking up his beanie so he can blow softly into a pot soothing his hissing potatoes I drift into a waltz as a man sings his voice floating higher and higher until he is loitering on the threshold of heaven I find myself swaying standing on the coffee table his face peering up at me jostling mixed nuts and leering a wicked smile Watchu going to do Huh What are you going to do? I am going to fly and he laughs as I spin and leap off the table for a few seconds, I soar like an angel
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