At the deep end of my eyes
There burns by the river a pyre;
In her crumbling bed, wrapped in smoke,
She lies,
While the flames
Dance away;
/
They burn off her skin every hope
And dream,
Which had kept her chest
Rising;
Oh, they must have been dazzling,
For the flames dance and dance!
/
Close your eyes, rise and twirl,
Little girl, burning girl;
Let the world say she’s crazy,
But I call it amazing
She can forget she’s dead,
And dance

I’ve seen these type of dancers before…a most poignant poem.
Thank you for reading and, as usual, understanding!
love this
Thanks for stopping by, Erika! Glad you liked the poem!