Sweet Nothings

Broken little ballerina,
twirling upon your music stand.
The tinkling sound,
crying angels it seems.

Alone you twirl.
Alone you dance.
Forgotten in the quiet of the drawer.

No weeping tears to be seen.
No light but within the soul.
All she wished for,
was to be able to whisper sweet nothings to him.
All she wished for,
was to have a partner carry her away from here.

The audience of dust.
The audience of stillness,
minus,
her breaking heart.
Broken little ballerina,
dancing for yourself,
dancing in the dark.

Let the light take you from here.