No matter that the cold rain slashes rivers across my face
It hides the tears
I care not about my carefully coffered hair falling wet and dank upon my shoulders
Tis someone else’s perception of beauty now
Not mine
How is beauty perceived in this realm of the lost?
The musty scent of old roses that clung for centuries to my pale silken gown is cleansed silently away.
I walk among the living unnoticed tonight
Shall I tie back my tangled locks and go dancing on the waterfront?
The refection of moonlight and streetlamps rendering a poor imitation of daylight
Yet my satin slippers still glide across the slippery wet paving slabs on the quayside and I can almost, almost forget that I am not human.
A pretty tune whirls inside my head as I dance round and round alone and in the rain
Alone and wet and dancing in the rain
Whirling and giddy in the rain
Who would see me now?
Who would laugh?
Who would dare to mock my dance?
Swirling and swishing in my damp satin slippers
Alone on the quayside
Dancing
This sad state compelling me into actions not of my own.
A thousand slashes of tiny rain droplets are suspended in the streetlamps glow as I twirl and I swish and I swirl.
My dance reaches its crescendo and I feel release once more

From the shadows a sound
From the shadows the sweet perfume of mortal life permeates my being
And alone on the dark damp quayside I swiftly deliver my fatal kiss.
My wet satin slippers soaked once more by rivulets of shiny ruby.

Janis August 2011