Does My Silence Need A Crime

Does my silence need a partner to dance with?

Does my silence need a crime

to prove

that my voice

while cracking

was whispering

the truth

in

the

only

way

that I

know how to say it.

I've been told that I remind people of a ghost

dancing

from one

room

to the other

my hair long

my hair short

-it is a pity that I put so much stance in it.-

I asked a question

and the line

went dead

but all is selfish

for those

who hunt

to kill

and me

alive

only to live.

I am disappearing before

you

and you cleanly

cut these loose ends-

Where do you belong?

And me

the afterthought

thoughtless enough to ask.

I don't know how to describe myself here

womanly

womanhood

brown eyes

and black liner

fur coat

and high heels

my tastes run high

and I dwindle

the afternoon away

sipping tea

and reading

but when the night jumps down

I'm ready to run these streets mad

as though

Seattle

were not big enough

for my hands to grasp it:

my desires

always wanting more.

Searching-

stranded

seas of gossip

what with the latest killer

killing

and Michael Jackson

lost his childhood

only to take it from others;

yeah well

my life isn't so great either

but I'm not nickel and dim'in kids

just to get my kicks.

The rain is teeming

dripping

sky falling

madness;

I'd rather stay in

but I still think about leaving.

Mind

swimming

bags

packed

car

driving.

But I silence myself

after all

Joan of Arc was the same age as me

when they burned her

surely

I can take a little more

between my bones-

but in the dawn

breaking

shaking

taking

my senses away with it

the rain

cleaning

the dismal

decadence

of my kind.

My hands frost bitten

my hair

cowering

at my cheek bones.

Panic

without sunshine-

Panic with it.

Does my silence need a partner to dance with;

the rain I think

would be a worthy paramour.