There is a Ventriloquist in the cherry glass of mine.
Pulling out a puppet.
Created it of silk and shivers.
Born in sleepless waters.
Had no chance to fall asleep at all.
An empty table conversation is where we meet again.
Some fine china applauds.
He lays glass strings around my spine.
Want me to join the puppet.
Dance to the divine.
One move forward.
Jump head first from the rim.
Angels are watching from the basement.
An old clown jumped into our glass.
Fading make-up on his forehead.
Offer wrinkles to look through.
He joined our pity party.
What type of party consists of two?
He makes some fun and ignores that I have Coulrophobia.
Securely I have lost my mind.
The tightrope dancers are falling from the ceiling.
My Cherry is getting warm.
Eyes heavier than before.
Ready for the showdown.
Finally, my circus is complete.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Bessie Celeste.
Published on e-Stories.org on 07/25/2022.
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