the dying swan

it's a dance i do in the bathroom at three in the morning
it's sudden and clumsy, simple movements to the music, of a complete beginner at ballet
it's speeding and slowing, yet always turning clockwise, as if circling the drain

it's a song i sing whenever i'm alone with myself
it's sung to romantic show tunes, a performance using the character as a shield, of a complete denial towards even myself
it's how many times i can say i'm in love, again and again and again, as if i mean it

fall over