circle

[cogs]

disconnected from her
as they pulled her plug...
a severed, energized whip
desperately dancing to find
ordered outlet in another's arms;
stop your well-timed waltz-
allow me to step in,
yet still i trip
over remorse as i fall
for phony ideal's vain cradle-
i could caress your photo
and pen poem persuasions;
still the dance spins,
swirling sweet scent
and kilt's linen, cold
as a bright star snuffed...
in this dark corner
my tears aren't for you