The Mistress

This is my attempt at a prose poem. A man goes to an event to meet his mistress, but things don't go as planned.

The electricity in the room preludes the magic that resides. My arms tingle from the shock of what I see with my own eyes. I can sense the power fleeting from person to the next. I can hear the whispers bleeding through the air with solemn breaths. Then I see her, my beautiful mistress. Just as haughty as a woman could be. Hair tied back in a ponytail, and red high heels upon her feet. My heart starts pounding, beating loudly, as our love does now connect. I feign a chuckle and a smile ‘cause she’s just all around perfect. My beloved, would you care to share a dance upon the floor? I’m sorry dear, but loving you has just become too much a chore. As I stand there with my passion dripping poison through my core. Then I stand there, watching, waiting, through the entry’s hallway door. I shall wait and take her home no matter if she does agree. Because I can’t accept the fact that she does not belong to me.