| The Dance |
| Date - Unknown |
| Like fireflies, floating through a pale cloud of mists, The thoughts, the uncertainty- an airless, suffocating atmosphere. She spins on, a perpetual dance of perfection and balance, Damp tendrils sting her skin, whipped around in perfect motion- Motion choreographed of emotions. An endless walk on a single strand of glistening spider's silk. A tiptoing acrobat on a vast plain of beautifully painful glass, Her rue form, shrouded in a thousand veils of pride and doubt and insecurity, Veils stained with deceitful fregrances of contempt, envy and control. Ever waiting for the one who engulfs her shrouds- Which, one by one, vanish as the stars in the twilight. |
| Notes: Wow...this one has a LONG explaination. There's tons of metaphors and similies and personifications and whatnot in there, so...if you would really like the explaination, feel free to email me, and I'll respond with a number at which I can be reached because it's too much to type and I talk fast. ;-) |
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