deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dance When It Hurts To Stand

I miss you like the end of a sentence,
always waiting
to hear that last word. And the ever-ready
snicker, you're so pleased with
yourself.

You're the drumbeat, baby.
Without you, the song got kind of slow
and sad.
Just me and my Epiphone, here,
tooling around.

But I'm still here, I'm still tuning,
and I'm not giving up.
Dancing by myself
in the middle of the dining room,
because I know that's what
I gotta do.
Go ahead, laugh. Ain't gonna stop me.
(dance with me like you do)

Told you I loved you,
didn't I?
Well, just in case you ever doubted,
here I am, watch me go,
circles around the table,
and almost backed into the chair.
A little private thank-you,
every single day.

Fancy goodbyes never sound as good
when I say them out loud, so I
won't even worry about it. I've already
told you the things I needed you to know.
So I'll put this out there for you,
straight and to the point:

I got to be here, and I got to say what mattered,
so thanks.
The sentence, it will just have to stay
unfinished.
And hell, I can still hear the drumbeat
in my head.
Always will, I guess.

That's fine by me.
Istra
Written by Istra
Published
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