Dancer in the Dark. Heidi Palazzo

      2004

      You were the first true friend I ever had.

      I grew up feeling nothing and feared I was a monster. There is only so much violence that can be reflected in the eyes of a child before their innocence hardens. I ate to fill the black hole inside, then hated myself more because people wanted me even less than they already did. I ended up turning myself inside out, hoping deprivation would suddenly make me beautiful. Weak in my quest for beauty, I never stood a chance against the ways new wounds could smother old ones.

      I had friends that were connected to the version of me I yearned to be. Always smiling, laughing, hoping. That with enough force, it would stay. But my mind would awaken, that house would shake, and the transient wonder of a girl would slip away.

      Then there was you. Oh, you. By the glow of that screen that connected England to my tiny room in Australia, I undressed and lay my reality naked before you. You understood, because chaos haunted your path, too.

      You captivated me, and on a bed of roses I listened to the murmurs of a newborn heart. In each other, we found a place we both could live.

      And so it began. The dance of a lover guided by the light of a friend.

      Fragile

      I can’t sleep.

      Twilight fingertips reaching for the glacier,

      Hoping to stroke the motionless.

      Never seeing, never breathing -

      No signs that you were ever here.

      The clock beats, ushering in

      That forgotten epoch of our history:

      A place that was ours, where

      The blind children we were still sing.

      We were too grand for confinement,

      And as we drape our shrouds over

      A candle well-worn, remember me well,

      And listen to me speak:

      You were greater than this beast; the agony.

      You were the scripture on my bones;

      Beauty within the weak.

      Like crazy, those stars in my mind collide,

      And I miss you, I miss you,

      More than you ever believed, or knew.

      My bitterness soaks through, and resentment

      Chimes in tune, but the hidden notes scream that, yes,

      I still love you.

      Ash now on my tongue, that fractured supernova alight

      Burns me in my bed, as my skin ignites.

      This subversion of happier times is no way to die, no -

      No way to die.

      Anathema

      Here I stand, all alone.

      The meaning has faded,

      And the will to fight is there no more.

      Adopting purity to disguise

      The eyes, those dark eyes,

      That betray the weakness inside.

      In silence, you wait,

      Until this need is submerged by hate,

      And your delayed comfort has come far too late.

      Rest your head, my sweet.

      Your slumber perfects the stony face

      That my anger keeps.

      If only I could slip into something more comfortable:

      The ashamed mess on shattered knees

      Granted forgiveness through bloodied eyes.

      The person I always allowed you to be.

      You’re allowed to disappear,

      You’re allowed to wound.

      You do nothing wrong, my love -

      You never do.

      It’s fine for me to grieve alone,

      And feel the sting from a turning cheek.

      I’m not allowed to be the departed it seems,

      Nor am I allowed to be the weak.

      What a sad existence you must live -

      Embracing a dying sun,

      Unable to forgive.

      What an empty room you’ve been trying to fill -

      Plagued by animosity,

      And the memories of me you try to kill.

      But as time goes on, I find ourselves alike:

      Denied the chance at a normal life,

      Watching that same failing light

      With tear-stained eyes.

      2005

      We loved, and we loved. You would sit by the lake and tell an empty notebook about the different ways you found me beautiful. I would drift away as you sang, your gentle voice cradling my aching spirit through the telephone line. The framed photographs by our beds watched us as we slept.

      We were inseparable, even if we weren't together.