Dancing Through Blood Stains

I remember the wind in my hair here.

I remember the ghost of your fingers lightly brushing my waist.

I remember that choke in my throat.

The same one that’s here now.

I remember dark glasses hiding your eyes and the even darker circles from the night before.

I remember you inside.

And out too.

And figure eights.

And smoke.

And nails.

And mirrors covered in white.

And table tops covered in razor blade scratches.

And my insides covered in razor blade scratches.

And your mouth covered in blood, fresh from your nose.

And I remember it all falling apart.

Just like that first nose bleed.

A hemorrhage of feelings.

Falling out of you and into me.

Split up but still over flowing.

Until it broke us both.

Until the night air couldn’t contain us.

Until the floor couldn’t hold us.

I remember you.

And the strain of you against me.

And the breeze dancing on my face.

And the sun dancing across us intertwined.

And the leaves dancing through the parking lot.

And the flurries dancing with our breath in the air.

And us dancing through every season.

Bleeding out into each other.

But mostly I remember you.

And your hands.

And my neck.

And the choke in my throat.