Her feet whisper across the stage
marking steps long since learned
long since obsolete
and still
she turns endlessly on the same track
her legs strong and sure
within the movements
of repetition.
Her audience gone
she dances mindlessly
her soul
cupped carefully
in the hands of the ghost she has become.
Without hesitation she moves
as if the music still resonates
and yet
long since soundless
all that is left is the noise of her breath
caught tight in her chest.
Like the music
she too
has grown silent
and uncertain.
Her eyes unblinking
still see
that all she feels
is a sliver of who it was
that she used to be.
Unable to break herself free
from the choreography
learned
in a time so far gone it feels fuzzy,
it is all she can manage
to dance this dance
a parallel shadow
to the brilliant sun hidden inside.
The Littlest Bit 