Masquerade

Stood alone at the dance floor’s edge.

Exposed skin glinting wicked silver,

jewellery worn like protective armour,

bare feet firmly planted on checked tiles,

donning a defensive stance.

Nameless and faceless behind a polished mask, 

blank and reinforced behind a frozen façade,

neatly veiling the shame and self-loathing: 

Masking the appearance of “damaged goods”.

Even as the clothes are removed, the mask remains.

Once more attending a peculiar masquerade, 

a violent dance where eventually 

only your face is left concealed.

He calmly awaits on the dance floor. 

Taking one last moment’s hesitation, 

tottering on the cliff’s edge, breathing deeply,

eyes floor-cast, wine fuelled- 

Propelled forwards into the shimmering abyss,

approaching his extended arm. The point of no return.

Gloved fingers taking his hand, as he takes my waist,

stood facing each other, unflinching, backs straight,

twin oppositions on a flickering, polished chess board.

Pulling me towards him, holding me gently,

fearful eyes meeting his soothing gaze, balming. 

Both left wondering 

whose resolve would be the first to break,

when the music starts playing.

I have danced this swirling waltz before,

the man always leads. I follow.

My last partner hissed into my neck 

through gritted teeth. A fearful creature breathing out 

intoxicated fumes. Begging him to stop. 

Empty pleading forming ghost words- 

hovering between us; unseen, transparent,

ignored. Waved away by his persistence.

Dragged back to the dance floor kicking and screaming, 

unable to match his fitful pace. His brute strength.

Torn clothes bunched up to my waist, clenched fists,

clutching. Jagged nails digging into soft peach palms,

bloody crescent moons forming a gruesome trail.

Caught in an impatient, sadistic dance, impaled.

A mere vessel to the destruction left in the wake

of his dancing plague.

This new partner was different: Patient and tender,

teaching me this new dance of symbiosis.

Unfamiliar with the steps, I stumble, and he catches-

This new dance is ours: Something precious only we share.

His movements flowing through me, a fluid push-and-pull 

feeling like a pebble, smoothed out,

carried by his gentle stream,

so different from the usual rapids I grew used to.

An erotic dance growing faster, intensifying,

our clothes blissfully falling away in its wake,

unbound at last by black silks and suits, 

our skin free to roam-

Fractured crystalline naked reflections, dangling above.

Reaching the melody’s climax, lost to the rhythm, to him.

Feeling the heavy mask slipping at last, my final shield,

he meets my anxious gaze, stroking my face tenderly- 

The mask falls, exploding on the tiled floor,

basking in its full shattered beauty, 

I dance over the shards, my hand in his.