The moon illuminated her as she flowed with the rhythm of the shadows
She cascaded her body with a passion she only knew too well
Her desolation slowly adrift with each flying second all consumed in a beautiful madness
No one would glimpse of the illusion she brought to life
No one would hear of the music she sought
No one would believe a woman free in her own course
A woman dispossessed by the eyes of an audience
A woman left to her dreams as if she was insignificant
But she danced despite the crowd telling her to stop
But she danced despite being burned and bruised for the fantasies she loved before anything else in the world
Title inspired by Haruki Murakami's book of the same name. Although I haven't read it even once. Hahaha no idea if my poem is even remotely similar to the book all I know is that the namesake is catchy. :))