The Twirl

As I picked up my ego
from the mashed potato mess it spilled,
only you were left
on the dance floor –
still spinning about
as if nothing had happened –
waiting for me to return,
take your hand
and twirl with you –
twirl until I couldn’t see
but instead,
only a blur of
you and me.
You knew
that was just what I needed
to face the world again
and all the other egos
that once I called my friends.

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