La Maestra

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La Maestra

 

 

I stood in front of a one man orchestra,

shadowed by dim lights

and lit by darkness.

 

My baton risen,

believing your soul,

questioning your heart,

I sliced the air,

becoming your Maestra.

 

Bloody, dripping

down the sides, you beat the drum

matching my pulse to feed your want.

My baton whips again

to tell you...

 

You're not good enough,

you were never good enough.

You panicked,

You were frantic

as my lips parted a smile,

that you never could see.

 

He begged for the baton

yet never quite in acceptance.

So I whipped again

and his clothes pooled

to the floor.

 

You fell to your knees,

never looking to me

and I laughed.

Silently, I laughed

as you dug your nails

into your chest

 

And played the strings to your heart.

I watched you.

I listened

 

As you played yourself again

              For me.

 

-Violetta Alexis

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