Masquerade

The masquerade, she bares it well, she smiles, she laughs, hid under it's glamorous spell whilst in her mind she sings a sweet, sad song, of a maiden abused, bereft, forlorn. Yet when both music and friends have gone she is left there, masked and still all alone I look at her dancing, trying not to stop and stare, fascinated by her mask, wondering what's hiding under there, I see a speck of a glimmer,of a soul that shines of one that's been damaged a hundred times, and my heart goes out to comfort her but she is not aware that I am standing here... I watch her walk across the floor to the silvered mirror, as apprehensively I see her shoulders shiver she does not know that behind her I stand and I try to stop her looking, grasping at her small pale hand but she cannot feel my touch nor even hear me, to her, I am but a wraith, a spectre, a rumoured fallacy The mirror- before it she stops and stares, slowly slipping off the mask, untangling it from her dark hair for only un-masked she sheds a tear for what we both see her womanhood lost, through pain and tragedy, and bravely she smiles, for her eyes finally see me the woman, the lost soul, the part of her that used to be xxxxValkyriexxxx08 The Masquerade ghost, mask, sad