bank holiday

body, mind and heart combine. passing words like dances through hallways and down stairs and in time with the aftermath of what i think i should call perfection. she is the epitome of what i feel for the world, the world is to small to justify this, the world is empty compared and the dancers in hallways down stairs are still. the dancers in hallways move when she moves, they make patterns on the floor in the shape of her fingerprints. they bow down to her, they encourage her, they are the angels on her shoulder.