Slow Dance

Dressed in my best, casual

I don’t care wear

I, the perpetual wallflower

Do what I do best


I decorate the bleachers

With all the other grapes dying on the vine

Some are small, grown sour and bitter

Others are soft and complacent

Nearly dead but clinging to hope 

Still others, the rare ones

Firm and ripe for the picking

If the scales would fall from the eyes

Of the deliberately blinded

Those with their devotions to cliques and clubs

Snobs all the same

But no, we diligent few

Permanent, invisible dance décor

Sit and watch the barely moving mass

Slightly shifting to the beat


All these years and nothing has changed

Just older, in some cases, no wiser

Even the wallflowers are the same, those that remain

Some got married,

Produced more blandness to the population

Five, are gone, rest them

The memorials plastered amateurishly on the walls

The  garish, whole-hearted sympathy makes them beautiful

One is now Nicole, rather than Nick

Shame really, to lose such…..

Passion in the Pit….though, she is stunning

Good Lord they are not playing that song 

I may just vomit, maintain my control

And roll my eyes instead 


I hear laughter and turn to a sight I’d forgotten 

That glorious boy had become a man

I’m loathe to elevate him to God and 

Leave him at Minor with room to advance

The smile, still the same, still makes me quiver

With its Devilish hunger and Gallant intent

How I laugh, my hair tickling my back

Head thrown back in hilarious dismay

When he said that he’d missed my laugh 

Preferred it to watching me cry

That was sobering and a little worrisome

As I took in his voracious stare

Felt his teeth tear at my clothes

Moments before the lights went out


Girlish screams, churlish laughter, more than one lewd remark

Before I felt a hand on my waist, another over my mouth

I let him drag me away,

Let him move behind me as he began whispering vile things in my ear

All while professing worshipful threats

For all these years he growls

All. These. Years

Each word punctuated by a thrust

Arousal evident against my ass

zephren palesun | Tumblr
zephren palesun | Tumblr

Some fucking reunion

Wouldn’t you know it?

Shoulda, woulda, coulda

It didn’t help.  I got ready to fight

The world whirled, so did my head

Then I was in the arms of Adonis

Same devil with a different face

I began to recall details

That fiasco of a date, once time only

How soft his lips were on mine

His hand firmly on my breast

His mother

My father



That song

I hate that fucking song

And we are swaying, he is singing into my eyes, quietly

Slow dancing in streetlights

Falling in love

He falls on the ground

Blood bubbling from the corners of this mouth

Asking silently why, I stand over him

laughing, watching

He dies there gasping, like a fish out of water


Cold water washes sin away

Absolves my actions

Frees my soul


Back again, here I sit 

I, the perpetual wallflower

Doing what I do best



Raw Screenshot from The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Photo by Matt Farnsworth, Creator Releasing 2015  ©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
Raw Screenshot from The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood
Photo by Matt Farnsworth, Creator
Releasing 2015
©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
“The characters Marcus Miller, and Babysister are owned by  Matt Farnsworth”
©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC All Rights Reserved

One comment on “Slow Dance

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