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the masquerade is opening,
as the graceful dancer floats through the room,
hiding behind her mask, she turns and,
with her invisible partner,
takes away the hearts of her spectators.
she fills the room with a strange feeling of
melancholy and a light despondency .
they feel her affection towards the dance
as she turns and spins her body in a captivating pattern.

he notices her, yes, of course he does.
but her dance is annoying him.
he can see, that her heart is not only in the dance.
she's dreaming herself away,
wishing for the dance to lift her up, and take her away,
like a butterfly in the wind.
but her body keeps her to the ground,
and the closest she gets to that freedom,
is when she, like a gazelle, lifts herself up in a low jump,
with her arms above her head,
or as she makes a pirouette.
those people around her, infatuated by her,
doesn't see....
a small swath falls from her heart
every time she raise her feet from the ground.
she laments her fate and stand in the abyss of despair.
but she still keep moving, dancing, hoping.
somehow...
she's earnest towards the dance, it's her way of surviving...
she can't be fickle, she can't make a second choice.
those she knew, that sought what she wishes for,
fell down, not able to stand up again.
and she's afraid...afraid to be even more pitiful than now.
at least, here, she can hide behind a mask,
the tears are as good as withheld but they're there,
on the inside, if not poring down her face.
she is a reluctant person, always were.
but he sees. he sees her.

and that night, he took her away.