Doorframe

    My body is contorted
   from the confusion.
  Every muscle attempting to find
           its placement.
    I am using my body to speak my mind.
 I want to know what you find
       when you reach into the mirror.
   The piece of flesh that travels back 
           in your palm
 across the distorted reflection.
You want so badly to be remembered.
             The Creator.
  I just want you. 
During my hours of washing socks 
    and playing roles,
  my life is infiltrated by you.
I want to be remembered as your lifeforce-
     as the man who created you
   who knew every pore of you
                every breath.
  What a pair of performers we are. 
The divinely decadent Emcees 
  in the seedy cabaret of our realities,
   makeup smeared, lips blood red. 
My life too is a production number.
     all that jazz playing out
         in my mind.
   I waltz and strike a pose in the doorframe,
     back arched, leg extended, like the dancer
          I wish I was and know I was born to be.
      I can never go back to before. 
  I cannot let myself. 
So I dance for you. I dance because of you.
      Please be there to direct me
                          to remind me of the steps.
  This time, I cannot afford to forget them.

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