dear Lover,

I played Odile when you wanted Odette--

but Melpomene would agree that the best

romances perform as tragedies

I think you knew we were the same girl

just on different notes

they all said we would drown entangled

in the weeds of each other

but I was desperate enough to kiss those odds

You were the prince that liked his girls with satin bones--

neither of us were fragile enough,

yet every night I felt her feathers in your pillow

I was never good at breathing or self-creation

but she could mold herself into a tulle goddess

she wore my skin like it was wings--

a reflection of the worst of us

you promised we’d dance the pas de deux.

maybe you’ll be mine in the waters.

from Me