Martyr's WaltzA Poem by Falling Leaf.Inspired by a John Mayer song.
I've got my best dress on, love.
My hair is tamed and my eyes are sparkling. You look dashing in your suit, And I could kiss the blush in your cheeks. Your hand feels like it was made for mine. I can't dance, but you make me feel Like I'm a lioness perched on a branch. Spin as the music plays. Perhaps we look a bit like glass dolls, Wound up and commanded to dance again. I think the pianist knows a secret; There’s a black look in his eye. The music, once soft and innocent, Takes on a frantic staccato. The floor of this ballroom begins to tremble. Spiderlike cracks race up the columns, And the paint on the ceiling begins to melt, The angels’ smiles becoming distorted. But we dance. The chandelier crashes in a shrieking ball of fire, The windows implode with a terrific scream. Flames leap up the walls, Devouring all in their path. But we dance. Slowly. We are the only two in this rotting world. With a shuddering sigh, the ceiling collapses. Wreckage is heaped at our feet. The magnificent ballroom is a magnificent mess, Something grand now defeated. Ashes swirl in the wind, and the fire is still hungry. The pianist hung himself from a rafter. Rain begins to fall upon our heads. Our gazes are locked, we are shackled by oblivion, And we dance on through the fire. © 2015 Falling Leaf.Author's Note
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12 Reviews Added on January 22, 2015 Last Updated on January 22, 2015 AuthorFalling Leaf.In the Woods, IAAboutI became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. I love to write and I love to review. Send me requests and I'll leave you my thoughts. I would hope that you'd do the same for me. My re.. more..Writing
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