Dream #25

Celebratory groupings in all black
huddle at the bar and around small 
tables lined in purple lights, rotating
dancers morph into new beings as they
laugh in high octaves, around the corner
stairs tight curve upward toward a crowded
exit, blocked by a steady flow of black tie
couples stumbling in drunken demeanors 
from rejection lurking in the dark confines 
of weighted expectations.

A breath of fresh air resonates off the cold
asphalt, your arms wrap around shoulders 
waist warmth, an embrace melts my frozen
armor, and you lead me back, bare, to a room
with judgement eyes and glitter in everything.


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