Cutting Out Resting beneath the weight of selfish desires. Gathering dust in the spaces between, in the moments of silence and darkness. Beating out a rhythm, with rocks and bones. Opening wounds and letting it all hang out, dangling in the wind. Losing your way and tossing off directions. Gaining momentum and losing perspective as the passing scenery moves faster... and faster. And the rhythm keeps picking up, how long can this dance last, before something gives, before we all fall down? At what point in the night will you have the courage to look back at the dance floor and see all the damage that has been inflicted? All the scars and blood and tears. Better watch your step, should you choose to move through any of the old steps, you might find yourself slipping. Will you trust me when we start spinning? Will you try to let go? Even if it means a possible painful collision? Or will you hold on tighter. Will it matter how close I am holding you or the look in my eye or whether I'm about to lose control? Cause I'm forgetting the pattern, which foot goes first, and I can't remember where all this was leading...am I even the one leading? But you had that way of knowing it was time to quit. An uncanny sense of when the music would end. And will either of us bother looking over our shoulder, when the next song kicks in. Checking to see if the other is still out there. Looking down at my dance card, I can't quite make out the words, or the meaning. Torn and crumpled, tossing it over my shoulder as I step from the light, through the eager callers. Knowing that souvenirs are nothing compared to that one moment when we made it all come together...the memory I'll always hold on to. ~ ~ ~ Return to the Fold Questions? Comments? Send them to Daily_Editor@hotmail.com. Unless otherwise noted, all Folded Thoughts were written by me, aka The Daily Editor, aka The Man Below the Fold. Copyright 2001-2008 © Belowthefold.net