Robert L. Bixler III (February 14,1985 / Tulsa, Oklahoma)
Shattered glass and puddled blood,
In the wreckage of my life I lay.
From my eyes tears flood
As my vision of you is taken away.
Rhythmic wave of pressured air,
This heaving ocean turned to dance.
I let my body flow, and forget to care
That this could be my last chance.
Melted block and twisted chassis,
My head lay weak and heavy on feather airbag.
My eyes turned away, bloodshot and glassy.
Waiting to beat in unison with your's, my heart lags.
Turn of toes and thrust of hip,
Spin of shoes and graceful slide-
We move to the music with pressed lip.
I desire your taste but to myself hide.
Sirens flare, lights red and blue,
My hands are numb as they search for your's.
Swirl of lights, gravity lessens on all I knew
As my thoughts levitate these romantic sores.
Lights fade, music slows, we are alone.
I sit, cornered glance from you,
Staring at the best I have ever known.
Eyes lock in begracing view.
Streaks of white light pass overhead-
Sounds of frantic medical code-
My body sinks deeper into this bed.
Lacerations of a strong heart, morbic ill bode.
Bashful footed and shy approach,
Your eyes flare radiant with anticipation.
Upon earshot, I am warned of my poach.
Before hap dance you are drawn away, depressant lamentation.
Surge of electricity to stable a fading pulse,
I stand watching, with a starlit view,
As loving romance turns false.
Death separates us but I shall always hold youthful hue.
Comments about this poem (Lost Dance by Robert L. Bixler III )
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