We've set the stage and memorized those complicated dance steps
and when the time comes for you to take my hand, you freeze
and delicately fall to ground with an earth-shattering thud.
I'm supposed to be the DOLL, plastered with frailties.
You are seeking the simple instructions on how to breathe.
The ceramic begins its aging process and begins to crack in few places,
and before long all this will be is dust in our fingertips.
I refuse to throw these remains into the wind.
I will simply inhale and exhale mechanically and confess to you my dreams,
before we slide to the floor and close our eyes, eager for the wicked tequila sunrise.