Her eyes are deep pools of cool blue. Open but empty, staring blankly Into infinite space.
Her smile - formed by wax-like lips - Is stiff, emotionless, almost as if concealed. but her mouth trembles as it traces the letters of an irrelevant name.
Her scent moves through the crowd and permeates your consciousness. It shoves and pushes aside thoughts, Making its way into your awareness.
A sound slithers into your ear: A whisper transcending the noise around. Despite the ruckus of chaotic discourse, Her endearing voice is the only sound.
The night slowly grows old Whilst more stories are told. Histories fail to unfold as endless lies are bought and sold.
(presumptions of non-existent subtleties has claimed its fair share of casualties)
More is said, but less is revealed Meandering timelines of hurt Kept hidden beneath the scars of wounds that have seemingly healed.