Masquerade

 

I stand in the corner

In the shadow

I watch

From behind my Mask

I watch the slowly

Dancing figures

As they spin

Dizzyingly

Past.

Each wears a Mask

Each hides a Face.

 

My breath warms

The inside of the

Flexible plastic

Making it difficult to

Breath.

My skin prickles

I long to tear

The Mask from

My Face

But I dare not.

 

I hold the wall

For support.

My Mask

Seems to weigh

Several tonnes

The weight

Of my Deceit pulling

Me down.

I take steadying

Breaths

To stable myself.

 

A Masked Face

Appears at my

Side

Dark eyes visible

Through oval holes

In his Pretence.

The only ounce

Of truth

Perceptible

Through his otherwise

Over the top

Façade

 

I smile blankly

Indifferent

To his presence

But he holds

A hand out toward me

He wants to dance.

Trying to appear

Composed

I take his hand

Allowing myself to be

Steered onto the

Dance floor

 

His hand rests

Lightly on my waist

Guiding me

Through the steps.

But as we twirl

Across the far side

Of the floor

He leans into me

His lips brushing

My Ear

As he

Whispers

 

‘I see you’

 

I stiffen

Longing for the

Empty shadows of

My dark corner

But I cannot

Escape him

So I whisper

Back.

My words

Curling across

His clean-shaven

Cheek

 

‘And this is remarkable-‘

 

He cuts

Across me

 

‘Because, you are an excellent deceiver’

 

I stare at

His black eyes

Trying desperately

To see past

The carefully

Constructed

Disguise.

For a moment

Something seems to

Shift

Giving me a glimpse

Of a man

Lying broken

In a bottomless

Pit

 

But then the Mask

Shifts back again

Blank

As every other

That whips

Past us as we

Dance in circles.

Suddenly I cannot

Breath again

And I break away

From him

Stumbling

 

Every empty

Face turns to me

Turns on me

As cold

And uncaring

As the marble

Floor

And bare stone

Pillars of the hall.

I back away

Fear crawling up my

Throat

 

He is watching me

Begging me

Not to turn them

Against myself

Begging me to use

My Mask.

But the heat is building

Behind it

The Lies burning my

Skin like corrosives

And my fingers

Reach for it

 

I hold the smooth

White plastic

In my hands

And tug

My Fake Face

Comes away

Leaving the exposed

Burning red

Of Human flesh.

A cold

Silence fills

The hall

 

I stare at Him

Begging him

To help

But he turns

Away

Merging with the

False Faces

Of the watching

Crowd.

Real human tears

Fall down

My Cheeks

 

This is what

It is to

Be yourself

In a world where

Lies and Deceit

Mould the very

Fabrics

Of society

 

I turn to run

Pushing

My way through

The jeering faces

And clawing hands

Falling

Through the door

To the steps

Outside

Where I lay

Feeling my heart

Shatter

In the resounding

Silence

 

Some time

Later

When the moon

Had faded into

The deep

Velvet blackness

Of inescapable

Night

I left those

Steps

Turning my

Back on the

Sharp light

And Treachery

Of

 

Life.

The Masquerade.

Reviews

[Spat Queen]

This is a very charmingly penned tale.

/Because you are an excellent hider/

This line rings better in my head using the word, 'deciever'.

/I hold the smooth white plastic in my hands and tug.../
This whole stanza is magnificent in it's power; brilliant with the colors and the images; the metaphores of what is false and what is real and what is somehow universally inescapable. Excellent piece.

[Beatrice Mars]

wow just wow (sorry i'm going to have to be a little sappy) i loved it, i could just see it all happening as i read, it was amazing...brilliant....