Post by Golden /~/ Shatter on Apr 22, 2009 21:31:40 GMT -6
Masquerade Ball
Raising my hands up,
I lift the smooth white mask into place
and it clicks,
snapping so it won’t fall off,
covering my whole face.
I glide into the room,
high arches lit by dim candles.
Red velvet drapes and crimson lights
flicker off the gothic walls,
dark and soft as a shroud,
statues and paintings staring out
as I walk through the door.
My steps click softly across the tiles,
red and black diamonds,
a laced mural at its center.
The darkness is undisturbed, until
twirling bodies fade into view,
partners spinning and spinning,
dresses whirling out like flowers
held up by strong hands.
Elegant music thrums in the background,
a humming that makes the dancers swirl in time,
round in pirouettes and patterns,
ever, ever circling.
Last to mist into sight
are the faces,
hidden by long dark locks.
As they dance,
the white, white, white
flashes across my vision.
Black, sightless eyes
gaping out of pale, dead faces,
staring unblinkingly into the room,
smiles plastered in place.
Never moving,
a sea of unending sameness,
impossible to tell apart
in the expressionless, immobile masks.
The ghostly faces spin as the dancers move,
creating streaks of white in the dark room.
I watch as the bodies swirl,
waiting.
I see a break in the motion,
a gap in the twirling.
Smoothly,
I glide into the hole,
taking the hands of another partner,
dress blossoming like a tulip as we spin.
We fade, match, blend,
as we dance through dusk
at the masquerade ball.
Raising my hands up,
I lift the smooth white mask into place
and it clicks,
snapping so it won’t fall off,
covering my whole face.
I glide into the room,
high arches lit by dim candles.
Red velvet drapes and crimson lights
flicker off the gothic walls,
dark and soft as a shroud,
statues and paintings staring out
as I walk through the door.
My steps click softly across the tiles,
red and black diamonds,
a laced mural at its center.
The darkness is undisturbed, until
twirling bodies fade into view,
partners spinning and spinning,
dresses whirling out like flowers
held up by strong hands.
Elegant music thrums in the background,
a humming that makes the dancers swirl in time,
round in pirouettes and patterns,
ever, ever circling.
Last to mist into sight
are the faces,
hidden by long dark locks.
As they dance,
the white, white, white
flashes across my vision.
Black, sightless eyes
gaping out of pale, dead faces,
staring unblinkingly into the room,
smiles plastered in place.
Never moving,
a sea of unending sameness,
impossible to tell apart
in the expressionless, immobile masks.
The ghostly faces spin as the dancers move,
creating streaks of white in the dark room.
I watch as the bodies swirl,
waiting.
I see a break in the motion,
a gap in the twirling.
Smoothly,
I glide into the hole,
taking the hands of another partner,
dress blossoming like a tulip as we spin.
We fade, match, blend,
as we dance through dusk
at the masquerade ball.
