Little did she know that all that time, under the guise of romance, she was actually rummaging for the love of a father she never had — in yet another man’s bed. Again! Too bad nobody warned her that it would be an endless search. A warning that might have spared her the pain, the humiliation of a hunt that would become the dance of her life. A dance she would perform o-ver and o-ver… in hopes of numbing her pain, filling that empty place in her soul. A place of silent desperation where self-love should be.
Somebody should have turned off those blue lights in that basement that night and handed the girl a flashlight so she could search through the delusions and find what was left of herself—esteem. That part of herself she lost somewhere between Teddy persuading her to turn off the lights and Marvin begging for a little sexual healing.
Fast forward one score and five.
The songs are still playing. She’s still dancing the dance. Po’ thang.
Evidence of the damage and unhealed wounds remains.
Who will help her understand?
Who will make her see?
Will somebody please turn off the music so daddy’s girl can stop dancing that damn dance?
_____________________________
Originally penned on January 27, 2005.
© 2005 Lynne J. All rights reserved.
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