Obsession

I say I can’t dance,
but that’s a lie.
Everyday, I tap and slink around
the ugliness that I barely conceal.

Rising,
and limbering and vaulting around
because I can’t bear to remain idle
and sit with my truth.

Shuffle! Spin! Slide! Repeat!
I am Astaire in his prime
staring at my reflection
waiting for the applause I so desperately need.

Tell me I’m smart. Great.
Tell me I’m perfect. Excellent.
Tell me that you need me. Divine.
Tell me…again. And again. And again.

For the rhythm of your accolades
has become my obsession
that blots out the memory of what I am.
Shuffle! Spin! Slide! Repeat!