Paths Untrod

Sift the sultry glance.

Playful stations pull 

at the separation of body and brain.

I wander down paths I'd never take,

but always want to.

The air burns thick

and the hormonal haze fogs mirrors

so I'll never have to look back.

So many partners in a ballroom I've never been to,

though I often perch the window sills.

Soft question marks twirl in dances I want to know,

but can't.

I mark floor patterns and mimic alone.

I'll go home soon to she that is me,

but not yet. 

Not while these graceful sashes ring in the air,

Not while their dance parades. 

Not until my hunger at the window is sated.