ballerina

Personal Poem: Grief in Toe Shoes

recommended by PLErotica author Patrick Khayler wrote this for erotica author R.B. O'Brien. I don't know their history, but it is quite the poem. Poetry isn't my thing in general, but I have a thing for ballerinas. (And for Patrick Khayler. He writes some sexy stuff. You should read it. You can find his work at Amazon.)

 

 

 

Grief in Toe Shoes

by Patrick Khayler

Shhhh. Listen.
The strings are tuned.
The Maestro taps upon the stand.
The audience is silent.

First Position
Toes out. Less than two inches between the heels.
"No. It can't be true." You feel the awkward nature pull you forward.
Legs straight facing toward the toes.
"We loved each other." Rocking forward. Burning thighs.
Arms in front. Elbows up. Tilt the hands. plié and up.
"He'll be back." Your spine begins to ache.
Stand up straight! Watch your frame.
"It's not over."
Wait for me.

Second Position
Heels below the hips.
"That son of a bitch." Your feet want to slide away. Thighs burn as you pull inward, refusing to trust
Open your hands. Below the elbows.
"He has no fucking right to do this to me." Arms heavy. Burning biceps.
Stand up straight! Watch your frame.
"He'll be sorry!"
Hear me.

Third Position
Heels cross.
"It was my fault. If I only could have changed." Needles drive into the shins. Reposition. Reposition.
Close your arms. Open right. Close your arms. Open left.
"I'll change and he'll come back." Sweat drips down your brow. Mixing with the tears.
Stand up straight! Watch your frame.
"My hair. My nails. The way I walk. The way I am. All of it can change."
See me.

Fourth Position
One foot in front of the other. Less than 12 inches
"I don't want to do this anymore." The tears fall faster. Your face is hot.
Toes and heels align.
"Stop please. No more." Breath in ragged breaks. Knees ache as the sobs tear you from the inside out.
Open your right arm. Raise the left above your head. First. Open Left. Right above your head.
"Just let me be. Leave me alone." Reddened eyes of fire. Cold iron in your chest.
Stand up straight! Watch your frame.
"No." You shake your head. "No."
Want me.

Fifth Position
One foot in front of the other. Close together.
"I am myself. Good enough for anyone." Pain as the toes turn outward.
Straight legs. Turn out completely.
"A new beginning. A new start. Everything I ever wanted." Aching knees. Burning back.
Raise both hands high. Open slightly. A music box.
"I can move on with acceptance." Shoulders tight.
Stand up straight! Watch your frame.
"To be is enough."
Touch me.

Sixth Position
"There is no sixth," you tilt your head. Confused.
My hands upon your waist. Hot. Tight. Fifth position hands. Press up on your toes.
The burn begins. "It's too hard." Cracking pain shooting through tired feet. Shaking legs.
I find your eyes and take your stare. Lift. I have you.
Shooting. Burning. Blazing hurt. Everything you want to forget. "It's too high. I don't want to fall again." Shaking sweat.
If you fall, I am here.
The toes point as you try to breathe. "Promise me."
You must be prepared to fall so you can live.
To catch.
To love.
To breathe.
I am yours.

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