La Danse Du Coeur

I wanted to call this Encore En Coeur, but I think that’s not really that good Franglais. This probably isn’t either.


Encore La Danse Du Coeur


It seems to be time for the same thing again,

The hurt look and the blank stare at best; the tears and shouted accusations

Tears and half-remembered truths and tears alcohol-blurred and things I don’t recall

Happening the same way, at worst. The calls missed, the last kiss,

And the appointments, lifts, lives and words in twists and why just exactly

After all this practice on our long walk to now, the two of us, let’s face it,

Let’s get some real clichés out there. Just why after all this now are we here?

Not together again? It’s not you it’s me. I just don’t see it that way,

It’s true. I don’t think it’s me at all. It’s you. Or who, it doesn’t really matter, does it?

Here we are again, like Bogart at the airport. We’re both going to miss that plane,

Both going to be grateful to Claud Rains for rounding up the usual suspects.

The Xs left our texts just before we became exes again ourselves; they usually do.

Not that long ago two rings of a text from you coming through

Would wake me from the deepest sleep, piling out in T-shirt and no socks at 4AM

Scrambled like a black and white film pilot cycling the back road, August, pre-dawn,

Answering your call again. Now I sleep through the unsaid and if we call

Neither of us rush to return the words, to pickup the phone and bare our hearts again;

Not now. Again. Once more, once more as the French say, Rodders, encore.

Part of you will always live there, in my heart – parts of people always do.

Even as we dust ourselves down and try not to pick the scabs on our knees,

Sniff just once in public, waiting till we’re out of sight to feel pretty much anything Now. Certainly not in front of you, when I’m supposed to be the total bastard

And you the stupid cow. It’ll heal, won’t it? Shoulders back and deep breaths

And I promise I won’t tell anyone how you liked to take it in the heart,

The same as me, too often coming back for more as we hold hands and walk

Across the stage, always, the pair of us, looking for the applause,

Blinking in the lights, it’s ok to do that now.

It’s just the glare, you know? Take me with you. I can see.

Take me with you, encore, once more.

Let me put my arms around you this last time.

Encore, pour la danse du Coeur.

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