The Show

March 30, 2017
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tears like the lit sky, blue, she danced in them
torn, starstruck by you, she died, metaphorically we hoped
and at first it was
all just one big metaphor
and she enjoyed the show
but soon the show bit at her, tore at her shirt
until she was left with the remains of what was once a faded t-shirt hanging from her bare skin
we wondered how long the act would continue
the solemn and drooped face, eyes that only knew her frown
tears continued to fall lifeless, purple this time, like a lone lilac
and the dancing stopped, she’d forgotten how.
her metaphor was no longer in her control.
you were a joke gone wrong, a prank slung over shoulder
we wondered how you did it
broke her down so quick
but the show has gone too far, the curtains are struggling to close
so be careful because she's fading.
we just saw her
swimming in purple up to her neck, calmly
but it’s rising higher to her chin and the purple is turning black
black and cold as the lone sky in the most dangerous hours of the night
and similar to the night sky, she can't choose who sees her or lets her beauty consume them
she was always one for shows and beauty,
but we never knew who she was
and you too, could never fully understand how her game worked
so now,
it’s too late,
the curtains have closed.
the purple is filling her mouth, purple and opaque,
still turning black,
she’s drowning in it.
her tears were once blue, full of energy, the most delicate shades of the gulfs
but then again, black is a nice color too.

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