Fun just like carousels, but they’re not carousels.
Because these horses of mine are not painted.
I don’t have any painted horses.
People walk in and out, in and out, in and out
and right through me, in and out of my story
like it’s a goddamn
Revolving door. ‘Round and ‘round. Chapter books. I go ‘round and ‘round
until the soles of my feet hurt, callused like chipped stone
I can only ever love people enough
for me to not remember any of their names
I can’t, I shouldn’t, I won’t
remember any of their names, first or middle or last or imaginary I can only like them just enough
to smile but never to think about how they make me feel.
I smile and I keep making my rounds
through this
Revolving door.
Revolving door.
Revolving door. I go ‘round and ‘round, and I never stop to think.
Don’t you see?
I’m a dancer. I like to dance. The club’s night prince and the DJ’s sweet pride.
I like bright lights and rooms that smell of champagne, honeycomb sins and bathrooms with great acoustics. That drunkard with the guitar,
shark tooth necklace on sweaty skin. Pour me up. I ****** my feelings away.
I like the feeling of taking my shirt off in
front of strangers I don’t give a shit about and
who don’t give a shit about me. Maybe I do give a shit. I open my mouth. Maybe I care just a little more than I say I do. I also like lying. I love the way I lie.
I like to dance until I’m the only person left
on this dance floor. I like to dance. Will you dance with me? Please dance with me. Can I come over? Can you come over tonight and hold me? No, that would be cheating. I can’t cheat on him. I don’t remember his name. But he’s not here anymore. It’s not cheating. Yes, it is. Don’t dance with me, stay away, please dance with me
Never dance with me, don’t touch me, come closer. Go away. I don’t remember his name.
I’m always the last to leave this dance floor
and it’s frustrating because sometimes, it feels like everyone who dances with me Dissolves. Drowns. Dies. They’re never here to stay and I’m always cheating and I can’t, I won’t, I shouldn’t remember their names, so don’t dance with me. I’m always cheating.
I’m not a good person. He said he still wants to dance with me, though. He’s the only one. I like the way his breathing syncs with my footsteps as I keep dancing and dancing and dancing. I hope I know that I’m not cheating. I’m powerless...
People don’t know that ‘round and ‘round this revolving door, everyone
looks, sounds, breathes, and feels like him. I like falling in love with strangers
because I don’t know them well enough to know that they are not him. They’re not him.
My feet hurt, and I’ve got 10 missed calls from Ma, I want to go home
I can’t go home, though, not when between me and home are these
Revolving doors,
Revolving doors,
Revolving doors.
Me and this revolving door. Revolving door. Revolving door. My horses are dead. My horses are not here.
It’s 3:00 a.m., and I love the way my little gummy bear heart
goes ‘round and ‘round through this
Revolving door
I’m still here at this
Revolving door.
Revolving door.
Revolving door. I can’t trust
Revolving doors,
Revolving doors,
Revolving doors like I can’t trust myself. I want to go home. Ma, I really liked him.
Tonight, I’m going to need him to hold this revolving door for me.
Revolving door
Hold this revolving door like father once held the door for me the night of prom.
Revolving door.
Revolving door. I can’t afford prom suits or expensive cars. I can’t afford him.
I can’t afford him. I can’t afford his cardiology.
Please, I want to leave. I’ve heard enough.
Revolving door.
Revolving door. Revolving door.
I don’t think revolving doors are so fun anymore.
Not when he’s not around,
Not when I’m chasing the traffic all the time
all the goddamn time, all the goddamn time. I’m tired all the time. I play piano underwater all the time.
Can’t you see?
Can’t you see how much I liked him?
I really liked him.
I really liked him.
I really liked him and now I can’t remember his name. I cheated on him. I didn’t cheat on him.
We were horses. We were horses. We were horses together, and I loved him. Music sounded the best when we were running underwater,
side by side, cheek to cheek, looking at the coral reefs and the shy eels hiding under the rocks.
I really really really really really liked him, Ma,
and I want to remember nothing,
but I do.
I remember everything like clear crystals and names painted onto platinum skies. I’m so exhausted. I hate remembering. I hate running alone.
Dancing was my life, and breathing was his
I told him to never love dancing more than breathing,
And he lied to me. I can’t trust him like I can’t trust
Revolving doors, revolving doors, revolving doors
I’ve learned not to trust revolving doors, just like I can’t trust myself. I love the way I lie.
