Ballerina had her sights on him.
In the crowd
Who would not?
Such a pretty boy
Eyes on fire behind lush brown hair.
Who would not want him?
But she wanted him more.
And as the first curtain slowly drew
He caught sight of her too.
In black from head to toe
She began to walk off.
In her mind she still wanted him more.
Behind the curtains of deciet
Was where he had found her
reflection
Escaping into the hallway
Out in the open- empty chairs,
Where is he?
The music has died now
Everyone but the celloist leaving.
"Play for me, if only this once.."
Head spinning,
One after the other
Heart racing.
But he was behind her the entire time;
Gazing- fascinated, he was struck.
And in the theatre their eyes met.
With only one other remaining
to fill the room with a meloncholic trance.
Behind the rows, inbetween the seats
where no man dared to seep in,
they stood.
Sparks from his eyes illuminating hers
flash against flesh.
This rythem, this obscurity;
how long can this go on.
Closer she wants him,
Close he wants her, even more.
But he is running,
Leaving the celloist to drown in his own sadness.
He is running,
Leaving her; eyes no longer illuminated.
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Submission Name: Ballerina (Short Version).
