dance

A lost relation-friend-ship, from long ago

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

There was sex, sleep, conversation, and art. There was no love. We did not even love one another improperly.

The art was tired, and made in the spirit of fun. Art is only art when it is expressing an emotion. We expressed our humourous side, with a slice of our inner happiness.Happiness took its foot of the gas occasionally, and the remnants of past glittered with pain in the pupils of our eyes.

The sex was never tired, even when we were. The conversation never struggled, but never went much below the surface. Sleep didn't matter.

We existed this way for months, in between relationships, ex-lovers, and competing friendships. One day it broke, and we may have spoken a total of three sentences each since.

Even broken friendships are worth remembering. Some things that glitter lose their appeal too soon.There is an abyss of lost friendship, and conversations that should have happened. 

Sometimes we dance on the edge of both love and friendship. Sometimes we are too broken to dance.

do you still dance?

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

I wonder what memories revive,

when you touch my hand or see my face.

 

Is what is old new again?

 

Are you lost in pillars of memory,

which impose the will of this broken architect?

 

Do my building still stand strong,

tall,

beautiful?

 

What power emanates from them,

and what force of will overtakes you,

when the sun catches their corners?

 

Do you still dance in the great hall,

of our lost, and broken-down love?

Shadow dance

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

Poets are,

photographers,

on partially-built,

grey skyscrapers.

 

We perch on top,

balancing our desire,

with our fear of heights.

 

We can never show you,

the beauty of the city,

we find ourselves on top of,

despite our best efforts.

 

The concrete city,

is not so dull to us,

the pink underbelly,

teases us playfully,

but won't tease you.

 

I would slash my wrists,

to bleed all over this page,

if it meant something to you;

to hell with the consequences.

 

My crimson essence,

dances into your mind,

awakening forgotten life,

pushing a new passion out,

regenerating hope in hopeless,

people, who don't see beauty for,

what it's worth,

i never stopped,

and I couldn't try,

hard enough to ever,

keep you happy or near,

me in the best or worst of,

times when things broke down,

and there was no solace for the,

wicked and the cruel intentions we,

bounced off of one another's innocence,

on our way to a broken dawn with a shattered,

dusk that always served to remind us of how bad,

our failure was with everything we sincerely tried for.

 

Some things that are broken,

aren't looking for anyone to fix them,

and some shadows dance a lot more,

beautifully than some of the brightest flames.