Taut, bowstring,

clenching fists

flexing fingers, damp clamping

a vise on my poor broken heart

the waltz of lust and desire

cautiously tiptoe around the fractured

pieces and shards

red and gleaming on the

checkerboard porcelain floor

- my heart;

step lightly my partner

those who danced before you

have left

a bleeding, blackening mess.

Love, love

what a beautiful lie bespoke

to a sweetheart beneath

snow covered white willows,

frostbitten lips exchange

soft chaste kisses

in the bitter wind.

This interlude of overtures

of waltzes, ballroom

angels avoiding the war torn

floor.