Dancing With The Witch.

Words are overflowing 

No sense upon them

I’m not a writer

Just a sinner

who enjoys the pen’s dance

Up and down

Round and clear

Black ink on my fingers

 

It feels different

When I write

Not the bubbly sunshine

Sleeping beauty in a casket

The witch now thrives

 

She takes my hand

And starts to dance

No pattern or rhythm

I step on her toes

She doesn’t scream

She smiles and takes the lead

 

She starts to guide me

To the fountain

With roses dashed all around

She comes closer

Should I kiss her?

She doesn’t make a move

 

I open my eyes

She’s staring back

Rubs her hand on my throat

Twists

“No stop!”, I shout

Not this dance

Let’s dance salsa or tango

 

Don’t take the lead

We’ve been down this road before

 

There is no escape

I write again

About death

About bereavement

Should I just neglect?