the gauche waltz

this dance that we do-
around the pain,
circling the truth-
never seems to end anymore
with a kiss
or transition into
another movement;
it simply fades away with
the two of us left standing
on opposite sides of the gym
like 6th graders at their first dance-
you wondering why
I refuse to see the writing on the wall
and I’m trying to remember
when you stopped handing me
the spray paint.