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Dynasty
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Dynasty |
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IndigoEve Member
since 2003-01-10
Posts 279Etched in the illusion of time 
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Elegance ~ Naught a word, to describe what feelings chime, what silk is drawn from pointed feet in ribbons of silvery white-laced sin. Lo, she is purer than he who stares. Onward, ballerina shifts her weight from arms to legs to crystal-spun neck, experiencing a slender rush as precision held at its epitome is stretched across the barre. She is equilibrium, and the destinies of millions balanced upon her ev'ry glance shan't upset delicate poise, such sweet definitude he knows is this why she shivers at his unholy touch, fingers, so cold guiding her along lines of unreachable symmetry. How she breathes, barely, 'tis like an icicle shatt'ring midst deepened wintry hush. He strings melodies within her bones and she is him, she is whole, one, fully incapable of anything but perfection, one, brief, moment ago. Mirrors look beyond, cherishing reflections of her china face, tall and ornate but still a rift in some glass-strung tapestry of life shows its presence, cowering among her lengthy shadow. Dusty sunlight pours easily, milky satin on already earth-parched tongues flavoring each other in this dance of faultless equivalence, motionlessly sound, strikingly untouched tableau of harmonious infinitude.. Perhaps they know what lies on the other side of the mirror, then is this why they both tremble inside? Midday slants gingerly through shaded windowpane, painting studio floors in mottled bits of yellow light, and she watches him, beautiful, asleep on the far side of the world, easterly yearning for unnamed things. Languid script fills her mind's discerning eye, ink blotting gold-rimmed pages as words spill and tears linger shamelessly, 'til a fragile finger traces o'er them with care. Smoothened verses are kissed into illusions of sighs, delivered from her hands onto his unopened lids, so creamy and flecked with her signature of rose, not yet bloomed. His shadows are longer than hers, somehow.. isn't it strange one plus one makes an epiphany of two, no matter how small, nor great the need. The dynasty of lyrical soul dancers will live on in her, elegant ~ somewhat like the composure she once knew. If I were to touch you, would you bleed a velvet river, running miracles through the sodden ground? --Moi |
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Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Ria~ I was so caught up in your pirouetting thoughts~ This piece is so gracefully elegant and tenderly penned~ *Huglets*  ~*Marge*~ ~*When the heart grieves over what it has lost, |
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