I'm riding in the back of a blue taxicab, eyes glossy yet mind sharp. I'm picking up every detail, baby, and you can't hide from these eyes. That dancing showgirl resembles the way you tried to shake me up so you can sit on my shoulders, but I'm far from gone, dear, and I'll sooner use these boots to shut you up before I glide into that old fire.

You know which one I'm speaking of- we drove by it not too long ago. An old, white house with green shutters barely hanging off their hinges and a once-was-white picket fence. Thinking back, that fence should have been built by you and me, but instead we paid someone else to do it for us. So we're being washed under the sand by our crimes.

While you were watching our old home bursting with flames, I was watching you. And baby, I don't think it was the fire from the house that was reflecting in your eyes. You had a plan for yourself, but I had a better way out.

From the view of an onlooker, you seem well-mannered, opening my door and with an outstretched hand. But once I turn back to our shared cab, a dull gray covers the outside and the man speeds off before I get a chance to pay. Your unwavering smile doesn't surprise me.

The second we walk into that old restaurant, a sort of habitual haze takes me over. A cover that you now always seem to wear. Eyes ahead and spine set straight yet nonchalant, we stride in just like old times. I can almost hear the sound of your gleaming tap shoes hitting the floor.

"clickety-clack, clickety-clack"

In front of me, the entire scenery changes. The tears and stuffing are swooped back together in booths, tables polished, barman grinning, and every room is packed with patrons. I can feel their eyes on us as your arm takes hold of mine and you proudly help me over the threshold to a new room. Oh yeah, I can feel the power again and the only reason why I have it is because everyone else loves to bow down and get kicked out of the way by candy-apple red stilettos. I buried my Dorothy slippers in the backyard. I figured there was no point to keep them when my childhood had vanished.

That was a long time ago. I'm not that person anymore. The image fades back into this black & white picture.

I'm consumed by fear all of a sudden, and I struggle to breathe. I let go of your arm and push you away. Don't touch me now. Don't even look me in the eye after all that you've done. We've done. I'm too overcome with emotion to run, so I just walk blindly until I run into a booth and topple over onto the seat.

I'm so embarrassed. My habits vanity tells me to straighten my skirt and speak the first excuse that comes to mind. I sit up and plaster a pristine smile on face, folding my arms over the table top. By the time I'm done reorganizing myself, the man and I had somehow ended up sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. His eyes are like sky blue crescent moons and I can't help but wonder how he gets them to be so irregular.

The last thing I remember is opening my eyes to the roof of a car, spread out along the backseat. Everything was numb and all the intruding thoughts didn't hurt anymore. They didn't hurt because they ceased to exist! I was free! A smile graced my lips as my hands raised to touch the stars. Then he was back. And although I waited for this new, lovely feeling to fade, it didn't. In a sudden rush, I was flooded with realization of what I had done. I just sold my soul away. My hand wasn't reaching for the stars, it was reaching out for help. And when the man with the blue crescent moon eyes snatched my hand away and tied it back down, my breathing stopped. Eyes wide, I still hear his words echoing though my head,

"Dream of what makes you happy"