What I can’t Quit

Burning muscles, aching limbs

Liquid movements, I swim through the room

Feet, blistered and bleeding,

Bruised so badly I can hardly walk

But the rhythm keeps beckoning me

Calling my name

Pulling me back to the hardwood floors

The mirrored rooms reflecting my every move

Songs that make me glide

Hours upon hours of tortuous work

All for the joy of the audience

Practicing until perfected

The costumes, the makeup, the hairspray

The shoes – ballet, pointe, tap, and jazz

The instructors shouting directions

Perfecting my movements

The drug I can never quit

A drug that dictates my life

A drug that I love and must share with everyone

A drug that is a dream, so embedded in my being

I base diet, time with friends, everything around it…

Dance…

 

-Chickadee

 

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