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Nath Rye  Jan 2016
ballroom
Nath Rye Jan 2016
Isang pinto ang nasa aking harapan.

Pintong gawa sa kahoy. Limang tao ang lapad ng pinto, at dalawan' tao ang taas nito. Dahan-dahan 'kong hinawakan ang nakausling parte.

Hinila ko. Ang bigat.

Isang engrandeng *ballroom
ang itinatago ng pintong aking pinasok. Ang una talagang mapapansin ay ang magarang wallpaper na yumayakap sa pader. Sa pinakaharap, may hagdanan na tila hari't reyna lang ang maaring gumamit. Sa bawat dulo ng hagdanan, may mga nakapatong na gintong mga dekorasyon- mga anghel at mga hayop na makikita lamang sa panaginip. Pero, mapapatingala ka talaga sa larawan ng Diyos at mga anghel na sumasakop sa buong kaitaasan ng ballroom.

Ang amoy naman, amoy ng mamahaling pagkain.
May mga lamesa at mga plato para sa mga nais kumain

Ang unang yapak ko sa loob ay sinalubong ng mga tingin mula sa mga tao sa loob. Lahat sila'y magkamukha...

magkakambal kaya?

Nilapitan ako ng waiter. May dala-dalang alak.
"Ser, gusto niyo po ba ng-"
"Bakit magkamukha kayong lahat dito?"
Lumabas lang ang mga salita sa aking bibig. Di na ako nakapaghintay.

"Ah... ser, kung gusto niyo po ang kasagutan sa tanong niyo, sigurado akong may makakapagpaliwanag sayo nang mas maayos."

At sabay siyang umalis.

Inikot ko ang ballroom. Kinausap ko ang mga tao. May mga sumasayaw, may mga kumakanta, at mayroon pang mini magic show. May mga nakabarong, iba nama'y naka tuxedo.

Naging masaya ang mga usapan, hanggang itinanong ko ang tanong ukol sa kanilang pagiging magkamukha. Pinapasa-pasa lang nila ang tanong sa mga ibang nasa ballroom. Ika nga, "hindi nila mapapaliwanag nang mabuti."

Ano naman ang napakakumplikadong paliwanag na ito?

Lahat ba, naitanong ko na?

Nanlaki ang aking mga mata. May nakita akong nag-iisa sa dulo ng kwarto. Mukhang matalino. Nilapitan ko.

"Sarap ng pagkain."

Binigyan niya 'ko ng tingin ng pagkagulat.

Makalipas ang ilang segundo, nagsalita na rin siya.

"Ganyan ka ba talaga nagsisimula ng isang conversation?"

"Di eh. Pero masarap naman talaga. Kinailangan ko lang ilabas ang matinding damdamin ko para sa handa."

Tawanan. Pero desperado na 'ko. Gusto ko nang malaman kung bakit.

"Bakit magkamukha kayong lahat dito?"

"Ah.... ikaw ay tulog ngayon. Nananaginip ka lang. Ang bawat tao rito'y indibidwal na parte ng iyong sarili. Ang iba't-iba **** personalidad, nag anyong-tao."

"Ha?"
Ginagago ako nito, ah.

"Subukan '**** kurutin ang 'yong sarili. Di siya masakit, di ba?"

Tiningnan ko ang braso ko. Kinurot ko, yung masakit talaga.

Wala akong naramdaman.

"Gets? Ako ang parteng nais tumulong sa iba, sa kapwa-tao."

".... Maniniwala muna ako sayo, ngayon. Pero, ibig sabihin ba'y ang lahat ng personalidad ko'y pantay-pantay?"

"Hindi. Ang mga taong nasa itaas ng hagdan, sila ang pinakamalalaking parte ng 'yong sarili. Kaya sila ang mga pinakamakapangyarihan dito sa ballroom."

"At pwede akong umakyat doon?"
Gusto kong umakyat.

"Handa ka bang tanggapin ang iyong sarili? Pa'no kung puro mamamatay-tao pala ang mga nasa itaas? O magnanakaw? O sinungaling?"

"Edi ok, tanggap ko naman na di ako perpekto."

Pero sa isipan ko, natakot ako. Nakakatakot makita ang mga masasamang parte ng sarili mo, na naging sarili niyang tao.

"Edi umakyat ka. Panaginip mo 'to. 'Di akin."

"Sige, salamat pare."

"Geh."

Inakala ko na ang huli niyang sasabihin ay may relasyon sa pag-iingat, o pagkukumbinsi na 'wag na 'kong umakyat. Pero dahil sa isang "geh" na sagot niya, nahalata 'kong wala na akong makukuhang impormasyon kung di ako aakyat.

Nasa harap na ako ng hagdanan. Kung nakatayo ka pala rito, parang nakatitig ang mga gintong dekorasyon sa 'yo.

Isa-isa kong inakyat ang mga hagdan, at sa taas, may nakita akong apat na tao.
  
Yung tatlo, nakikinig at tumatawa sa biro ng isa.

"Hi...?"
Wala naman akong ibang masabi, e.

Bigla silang tumahimik at napatingin sa 'kin.
Alam na siguro nila kung sino ako, dahil nilapitan nila ako at nakipag-kamay.

"Alam mo na ba ang lugar na ito? May nagsabi na ba sa 'yo?"

"Oo. Sabi sa 'kin ng isa na kayo raw ang mga pinakamalaking parte ng aking personalidad."

"AHHH! Mali siya! Nasa impiyerno ka na ngayon. Masama ka kasi eh."

Napatingin lang ako sa kanya.

"Joke lang, 'wag naman masyadong seryoso. Edi madali na lang pala! Sige, pakilala tayo!"
Ngumiti naman ang apat.

Nauna yung tatlo.

"Ako ang parte **** responsable. Alam mo ang mga responsibilidad mo, at maaga mo tinatapos."

Wow. Responsable pala ako.

Ang pangalawa.
"Ako naman ang parte **** madasalin. Malakas ang tiwala mo sa Diyos, kaya mahilig ka magdasal."
Grabe, banal pala ako?

Ang pangatlo.
"Ako naman ang parte **** mahilig sa sports. Mapa-boxing man o swimming, o basketball. Lagi kang handa."
Parang yung bodybuilder ko lang na klasmeyt ah. Napatawa ako.

At ang pang-apat, at ang lider:
"Ako ang parte ng sarili mo na nais makatulong sa ibang tao. Handa kang magpatawa kung kailangan, pero kaya mo naman ring magseryoso. 'Di ka nang-iiwan. Tunay kang kaibigan."

Pero yung tao kanina yung nais makatulong sa ibang tao.... baka ito yung sinungaling. Bahala na.


"Kayo ang pinakamalaki? Natutuwa naman ako."
Nagtawanan lahat.

"Pero may isa pa. Ang pinakamalaki talaga sa lahat."

"Saan?"
Saan nga ba talaga?

"Dito. Halika. Bago ka magising. Para makilala mo."

Pumunta yung pang-apat sa isang dulo ng kwarto. May pinindot siya. May maliit na butas na nagpakita sa pader. Madilim. Nahirapan akong pumasok. 'Di na sumunod ang apat.

Sa gitna ng kwarto, may isang tao. Isa. Nag-iisa, kasama ng mga libro at papel.

"Ikaw ang pinakamalaking parte?"

Tumingin lang siya sa 'kin.

"Ikaw ba talaga? Ano naman sinisimbolo mo?"

"Ako ang katahimikan. Ang katahimikan sa iyong loob. Matatag ang puso mo, at kahit marami kang kinakatakutan, hindi ito nagiging hadlang sa 'yo. Ako ang nagbibigay buhay at enerhiya sa lahat ng mga personalidad mo."

*At ako'y napatahimik. Katahimikan pala ang pinakamalaking parte.
It's 3:44 am woooooooo I started at 3. ps this is in tagalog/filipino. thank you
Blake  May 2014
The Ballroom
Blake May 2014
In the ballroom, half past the hour I struggle to find place where bleeding walls are curtailing chase. and in the crude mix of masqueraded hearts I found your true face I watched you stroll in and out of fits of love, destroying every good thing left to break
In the ballroom, three quarters past the hour I felt your cruelty pierce my skin and bone to a core, childishly toying with an old doll that couldn't take the pain anymore
so that one day when pride knocks on your door he'll bestow you upon the floor and may you rest there forevermore.
but in the ballroom, as the hour ends, for now you say amen before you feast upon the fragile thin of souls that belong to men whom may never love again. and may love never forgive you for this sin.
In the ballroom, for the rest of your extent,
may all the lost souls never forgive nor forget you for this sin.
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Figures Dance Across My Memory,
In An Erie Ballroom,
Lit Only By The Light Of Vanilla Scented Candles,
The Light Of The Moon And Stars,
Glaring Through Transparent Windows,
Congregate In Creamy Daffodil Colored Flames,
Every Women I've Cried Over,
In Extravagant Ball Gowns,
Stitched With The Misery They Brought Upon Me,
With Them,
Every Man Which I Have Bawled Over,
Wears A Tuxedo,
With A Withered Rose In Their Pocket,
To Symbolize My Pain,
And A Tie Laced With My Own Tears,
The Ballroom Of Horror Caters,
The Party On The Top Floor Too,
Everyone Who Has Made Me Smile,
Dances Erratically,
Singing Along And Laughing,
Though The Demons Beneath Their Feet Houses,
Barbaric--Criminals--Found Guilty Of Heartbreak,
And As They Slow Dance To Rhythmic Beating,
Of A Broken Heart--That May Never Mend,
Something That Rips The Gauze Wrap,
From My Wounds,
They Smile,
As They Masquerade In My Ballroom Of Horror
AnnaMarie Jenema May 2014
Mom should’ve been here by now. I sat on my frilly blue and purple polka-dotted bed waiting for the knock on the door telling me mom found my dress. Finally, it raps on my door. “Mom! Did you find it?” My eyes widen as the silky blue sways in her arms, it’s beauty sings as a caged bird let free. I gasp in admiration. “I-It’s wonderful!” I pick it up and it glides down into a perfect fit.  “I’m glad you love it. Come down after you finish getting ready.” The door thuds after her. Looking across the room I note my honey brown hair that curls into pigtails. Restraining the squeal that is caught in my throat, I travel the length of my room to the mirror.

     The mirror sits on an antique dresser that my mom found at a garage sale. At first I didn’t care much for the ancient wooden junk that is at least half a century old. Now the gold-tinted metal gleams with pride once again. Rusty gems were in carved into an arc surrounding the mystic glass. “Lydia! Can you go upstairs and get that box down for me?” Mom’s request interfered with my thoughts. … Go in that dusty attic? “Sure mom!”

       Out the door and into the hallway stood a door like any other in our house. It squeaked open as eerily as what you’d expect in a haunted house. ‘A box, a box’ than out of the side of my vision I thought I saw motion. I shook it off as just being a spider or mouse. Soon my footsteps lead me to come across a dresser and mirror identical to the one in my room. It was cluttered with cobwebs and spiders. “Not very well taken care of, are you?” I muttered the joke. I looked into the mirror expecting to see a light blue dress covered in dust and sparkly silk material, but there was no reflection at all. I looked even closer at the mirror, before realizing, there was no mirror at all.

     I looked around until I found it behind the dresser, sitting on the ground. I touched one of the gems that surprisingly glowed despite the rust. Something shone until I was blinded. A tingle ran through the hand that brushed the mirror’s gem and flew through my arm until it encompassed me, racing into my every feeling until I couldn’t feel anything. My eyes shut and refused to open themselves.


     A gentle breeze grasped my hair, as music descended from the air. I could smell what seemed to be a banquet of some kind, mixed with perfume. Slowly my eyes lifted their veil to lock with waves pounding against a brick wall. I was looking down from a balcony into the erupting sea. The white brick-made balcony was large and lonely even with the brush of people walking by. I hid behind the rose-red curtains to look around. People danced and talked. Some ate. The music paved the trail for their feet to follow, all very gracefully. The men wore suits that tails drip to their knees. Their white shirts buried under sashes of gold, red, or blue. Sometimes holding medallions, some only dressed in ties. The woman wore Victorian dresses of every color and shade. Frilled hats with flowers were arranged on their heads.

     Wait, I’m not supposed to be here. I was in the attic, going to the café with mom. What was I doing? My head ached from the effort to recall my actions. Why can’t I remember? I stumble backward only to reach the balcony’s edge. Where is this anyway?

      I dive back into the curtain to search for my answer. The softness of the curtain was a rose pushed to my nose. I peeked through the small gap to find a page carting some clothes past my hiding spot. I sneaked next to the cart being wheeled into a doorway, planning to find a way out. I lost the page and walked around until I went through an archway door. The cool air spiraled against my silk-trapped skin. The scent of flowers bloomed around me. I found the garden labyrinth.

     Walking through the maze’s hedges I arrive at a beautiful fountain displaying crystal clear pouring waters. Everywhere I gazed, flowers embraced the greenery. My breath deprived my lungs of air as I took in the sight. It was so magnificent under the light of the full moon. A few lamps lighted a sidewalk path maneuvering along the hedges. I circled the fountain, taking in the surroundings. My silk dress was shining in the dim glow. The sceneries beauty entranced me.






     I didn’t see a shadow before me, and almost fell to the ground. In a graceful swoop an arm latched around my waist to pull me to my feet. “Be careful to look where you’re going, please my lady.” He bowed his head while his slim rimmed glasses started to fall off of his face, suddenly he looked up at me; sliding them back on with a slight wave of a finger. “That garb isn’t from around here.” He noted my sky blue dress with interest. I’m not even sure where I am. “I seem a bit lost. Will you help me?” he stares at me closer, a deeper curiosity shines in his green eyes, daintily brushed by his dark hair. “My dear, if it brings you comfort to know, we are in London at the Buckingham palace.”

      I gasped; London was so far away from New York. It’s across seas. I gulped at my next question as sweat pricked the nape of my neck, “What’s todays date?” His eyes sparkled at the question. “Why, it is June 28, of 1838. The entire castle is bustling at these very words. It’s a day to remember. Now my dear, I must take my leave and see to the ballroom. Farewell.” He bowed, than turned to leave. His slow stride seemed like a dance all on it’s own. My gaze was caught on his figure following the foot trail until he had disappeared. I sighed at my first encounter with someone in this grand place. The Buckingham Palace, in 1838. …1838!! That can’t be right, it’s 2014. Then the shock hit me as if bricks fell from the castle onto my forehead; the clothes, the language, the pages, and royalty. This couldn’t be London in present Great Britain.

    I circle the garden once more before I decide to go back inside. The young noble had realized my clothes didn’t belong here, probably anyone who sees me would recognize this too. I start off towards the footpath. The melodic rhythm still swirled in the breeze. Than for a second I thought I heard a footstep. My head twists back only to see a shadow move. The cool air now seems icy. Multiple possible things to say to the night air gallop through my mind. “ Such a lovely night,” is the one I decide on. From behind me a few feet back I imagine a sigh. No, not imagined, but actually there. It’s too real. I turn on my heels just to catch a glimpse of a black cape caught in the wind, as it’s master floats into the open. “My, It is lovely. However, I didn’t realize such a strangely dressed commoner as you could enter this palace.” His smirk shows sarcasm as easily as his eyes. “I never intended to visit a palace, even less in London.” My honest answer only has him conceal his laugh.




     “I’m sure you didn’t. Yet, your dressed for a fine occasion.” His hand reaches for mine. I pull away from the willowy figured glove. “Why not allow me this dance in the garden?” I back away, aware that his voice is too prescient and I should be careful. “Are you going to be wary of me?” his gaze turned pained, his blue eyes that were once full of playfulness now melted into hurt. I unintentionally reach out for his gloved hand. His laugh echoes past the foliage. “Such a naïve girl.” Dread decided that this nobleman should be avoided at all costs. I ran towards the palace. “And so the chase begins.” He snickers and rushes after me.


     I pass through the archways, glancing back now and again to find the caped captor flying along my tracks. If only there was some way to lose him. I ducked into the nearest doorway. At the far end of the hall I could see a door with a sign saying, “Dressing room”. I flung myself under a table and tablecloth to hide myself as my pursuer rounded the corner into the hall. I tucked my head between my knees and waited for his footsteps to fade. The warm place that held me trapped was close and too easily discoverable. I held my breath and tried to sink into the darkness. I’m not here. No one can find me.

     After enough time flew by to ensure my safety, I crawled out from under the table. The cloth draped over my head. I looked back and forth, half expecting to see a smirking smile, and haughty eyes. A girl stares down at me. She’s at least ten years old. “Shhh.” I press my finger to my lips and gently smile at her as if we’re keeping a secret between us. She giggles, copies the motion to her own mouth, than delightfully skips away. I let out a sigh and stand up. I follow the hall to the dressing room. The door creaks open and I look around once more, startled by the sudden noise.

     I sneak inside hoping find that the room is abandoned. In the darkly lit room, only my footsteps sound. As far as I can tell, no one has entered lately. I walk over to the carts of clothes and run my hand over the first one on the stack. It’s a ruby-red dress with fine material and some gems similar to those in the mirror. … The mirror. Not in my room, but the attic. My head hurts again, but I know I touched its gem before winding up here. How? I look through the dresses until I find a light blue and white one. The bowed sleeves come down to my elbow with frills encasing the bottom. The neckline forms a squared area of similar white frills. A small white sash acts as a belt that drops into the skirt of the dress. Two similar white ones come down each side. I pick up the light material and set it near my feet.
      My old silk dress easily slips overhead, making way for the new clothing. After tugging tight sleeves and bodices into place the light dress swoops over my feet. I spin through the dark room only to stop at catching someone’s eye. I immediately turn towards the frozen face. It is my own reflection in a mirror. I face myself as my sight settles on the dress I wear. My honey brown hair curled over the dress from my pigtails. My eyes sparkled it’s matching blue to the dress. In the corner of the room, next to the mirror, sat a large wooden box. I looked through it to find that it was full of jewelry and accessories. I prodded its contents until I found sky blue bows to wrap in my pigtails.

     I walked into the open hallway, now littered with people going to and fro. Anyone from passerby’s, young nobility, servants, and pages. Once the hall emptied I fled the room, hurrying through the corridors until I met with the room that created the harmonious trance. At the ends of the great ballroom sat crowds eating and laughing. Clusters of on-goers danced and chatted. In the middle of the farthest side of the room sat a throne that was embroidered with metal marks from centuries of legends. On the throne sat a woman at least eighteen of age. Her regal crown shone despite other attractions surrounding the dance room. A page strode over to her as she flourished her hand for his service. He stood and listened intently to her whispers. Finally, he stood and roared for the room’s attention. From his mouth spilled cheer and wistfulness, as he demanded the crowd’s ear. “Our young Queen Victoria’s coronation has completed. Now starts a new era! Let the celebration proceed.” The room reverberated with hope, love, and admiration for their new ruler.

     ‘Queen Victoria has been crowned’ having no clue how to find a way home, I disconsolately decide to join in the festivities. The crowd moves into a larger room. I stagger after them; the mass pushing everyone forward. We pass the kitchens. The aroma of cakes and deserts of every kind rises into the cool night air. The only smell more perceptible than delicate delights is the perfume penetrating the entire castle. We enter a by far more spacious ballroom. Empty amphitheater seats loom overhead, tied into the walls for onlookers to watch the ball unravel. Once again I glance at these to notice black material hangs over the edge. A head moves as people fill the seats. A nobleman with a black cape and familiar blue eyes takes their seat next to men and woman of high status. I walk into the mop to hide myself, while watching him. He laughs and chats with them as if he’s known them all his life.


      Unable to watch where I’m going, I trip. The harsh, solid ground hits my knee as if I’ve met a tornado. I wince at the pain as I strain myself to stand. A firm, but careful hand grabs mine. I look up into green eyes shaded by recognizable glasses. “My dear, you are very clumsy.” He smiles at me as I pat my dress back into place. “I see we’ve met again.” My response comes weakly as the sore from my knee makes me flinch. “I don’t think you’ve told me your name.” I inquire. “You have not requested my name, so I haven’t told it. However, if you do me the honor of a dance, my secret may be leaked.”  He bowed and offered me his arm, as I timidly accept it.

     A new song disrupts the last, as new pairs take the stage. He walks me onto the floor, and diligently starts to dance. I watch my feet, not wanting to mistake my pace. “Lift your chin, my dear. You don’t seem to but much of a church-bell.” I looked up at him puzzled. “Church-bell?” As he tried to conceal a grin, his glasses couldn’t suppress the laughter in his eyes. “Your rather quiet. And most likely not from around London, are you?” I looked to the ground once more. Should I tell him or not? Will it start problems, or will I be okay? “It’s fine, I shall not expect you to answer a question you wish not to.” I looked up at him, solemnly. “I promised to introduce myself, correct?” I nodded, as the music that echoed around us faded into the next song.

      His movements were so fluid; he was a wave at the end of the day, flowing into the sunset. “Miss, I am known by most as William Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He procured my sweaty palm into his, tenderly swiping his mouth to my fingers. I let my hand be brought back into the dance as I searched for words to speak. Once the dance ended a few moments later, I curtsey and murmur, “It’s nice to meet you. I am Lydia Olsen.” At my gesture he bows, and requests once more, “Am I trustworthy enough to understand why you are in a mysterious place you don’t understand?” My answer had been decided and started to splatter from my mouth. “Y…”









     The next sound bounces along the room, it’s symphony starting. My words mix into the noise. In my vision of the seats above, snowy dots shoot arrows in my direction. Blue eyes gaze down at me, their iciness piercing me as icicles prickle my skin. I exchange a glance with William, nod and answer, “You are. I’ll explain.” My discomfort is surely recognizable. I often peek over my shoulder above as we dance. The shadow with a glare starts his voyage through the seats to reach the stairs that pillar into the wall. He descends from the tower, only adding to my panic. My hand seizes Williams, as I give him an apologetic smile. We hurry from the room, stumbling over each other’s feet. His graceful prance, now a faltering wreak.

     Once we are outside the ballroom, I turn towards him. “I trust you, so please understand, I live In the USA in 2014. Not London, not Even in the 1800’s.” His expression is masked, but I’m sure that I’ve confused him. “I went back into time, from the future.” The simple words struck a chord with him, his glasses tilted off his nose as he listens intently. “The future? How?” even I don’t know how to answer such questions. “I’m not sure. I was in the attic with a mirror, than … ****! I’m here.” Confusion once again wonders onto his face. “I went into a storage room with old things, and found a mirror, touched a gem, now I was here.”

     “I see, but why did we run away from the celebration? I was looking forward to another dance with you.” His casual smile does nothing to conceal unasked questions. I’m not sure how to answer them ei
mark john junor Sep 2013
its unmistakable
not just another caravan of faces
not just another passing year
under a strange sky
iv reached the edge of the world
nothing but open sea to my back
as far as the mind can see
and i'm riding a west wind on a quickness breeze
on a middle of the night skiff
to the the small island
where she waits for me
where she sleeps tonight
the bold song gone soft an slow
the guarded smile relaxed into a champion of joy
and conquers all her sadness
with a single tilt at the windmills
like a knight in shining armor

nothing but deep sea
nothing but night salt and sea

and as i draw near
she sings from her soul to mine
come to me lover
laugh
yes cry out loud with all your joys
laugh pure and easy
i'm the mood for you boy
i'm in the mood for your hand in mine
dance in my heart
its a warm night in the tropics
and we got the world to ourselfs
so may i have this dance
spin
dip

ballroom of sand
laugh with me
run with me
we are free
all our lives people have tried to put us away
keep us down
now look at
dancing in the stars
look at us free and easy
dance with me baby
make love with me honey
on this ballroom of sand
laugh pure and true
with simple joy
here by salt and sea
be young with me

tonight on this ballroom of sand
come home to me
warm me with your touch
comfort me with your eyes
iv waited so long come home to me

nothing but open sea at my back
and i feel so alive
i feel so free
and my lover is near iv never been so alive
running a western quickness breeze
on a skiff heading home
to her
jezebel
"riding a west wind on a quickness breeze" LOL not to be mistaken for a nautical term LOL
The deafening house music
The crowd of colorful suits and gowns
And the shifting colorful lights
Trapped me in the ballroom

The tasty sophisticated food
The elegant decorations
And the freaking mandatory cotillion
Didn't stop me from ******* up

I should've been more social
I should've treated my date better
And I should've enjoyed the evening
But my fear and doubt won over me
Prom happened five months ago, but it never ceases to make me feel awful.
Anthony Terragna Mar 2015
Overwhelming mental congestion for perfection,
Socially influenced blueprints of future attraction.
Constructive criticism given by construction workers,
The labor of family and friends for reassurance.

A solid foundation of first impressions,
Structured walls of growth and development.
Insulation of natural feelings and experiences,
Ventilation to cool down the heated encounters.

Electrical wiring of an emotional and physical connection,
A circuitry of passion and romance with a light switch.
Hardwood flooring for candle lit dinners and ballroom dancing,
Granite kitchen counters for intimate midnight snacks.

An attractive exterior siding to woo the public eye,
A secure lock of commitment on all the doors.
A roof of trust, and a picket fence,
And now, my love,

I’m simply yours.
The surface of the water at Garrett Lake
is a ballroom floor, the bluest of hardwoods.
Hiding itself within its leafy forest green walls, which
if looked upon closely, one would swear you can see the woods.
We blazed a trail past a fallen trunk,
presumably lightning struck
whose roots had twisted
into the shape of a moose
fallen to sleep or endure breathe no more,
past the row of trees split
by the trail. One side
Life, the other death.
We found our way to an elder pine
who wanted to be a pier
and dove down so we could
sit upon him, no longer on land,
legs dangling like a chandelier above the ballroom.
Jenny  Mar 2018
What is Love?
Jenny Mar 2018
love
its a beautiful thing really,
its brutal, its strong
it so deep, and so heartwarming,
and at the same time,
it makes me want to cry, scream
pound my bed,
punch the white cement wall until my knuckles are ******, raw
and the wall has a display of reds.
it makes me want to break an elegant expensive vase, and crush it in my hand.
its destructive, desired, dangerous,
and yet
i want to laugh
i want to sing
and dance!
dance to oh what a night
dance with my yellow watercolored pillow case, with my favorite pillow stuffed inside
oh, love is so peculiar isn’t it?
its spectacular,
and its like standing in the middle of a ballroom
where dresses and suit ties of different hues reflect the chandelier light hanging from the ceiling,
an array of rainbows cast on the walls.
and yet, theres an emptiness…
one I’m afraid i cannot fill, and rely on you to.
its like standing in an ocean of chaos, of excitement and watching it from afar at the same time.
i can see myself swimming with the sharks, yet i am a bystander
as the thread of my life is strung tautly,
i watch myself bleed, gruesomely torn to pieces
i watch as the water darkens from spilt wine,
the wine that was once salty becomes sickly sweet around me
but i continue watching myself become bones stuck in their teeth.
its like being in an aquarium, encased in water,
and yet, still not a part of it, a distance, yet, a proximity
i watch myself drown through the looking glass, unable to help.
the sign says don’t tap the glass, but i pound and pound.
I am the only one watching myself slowly slow, and slowly stop.
stop breathing, stop fighting.
love is holding your breath, being cautious, yet careless.
Its diving recklessly, unsure whether to be sober, or drunk,
and being both.
its like seeing myself on a high diving board, the water beneath is so deep,
it seems to never start, and never end at the same time.
I can see myself, on the edge peering over,
scared to take a leap of faith,
yet relived i can still feel the sharp breaths,
nervous stomach,
because it means i can still feel, i am still capable of human emotions
i thought had left me long ago, before you.
Baby Don't Hurt Me
Liz Mar 2016
The Dancers in Black

Her dress was black and the shape resembled a flower. Satin off-the-shoulder sleeves sat elegantly against her ivory white skin. A plain black bodice and a plain black skirt, not too puffy but not form fitting. It was a simple dress, but she stood out from all the lavishly decorated girls that attended the ball. Her pale skin made her black dress look like a painting on a pure white canvas. A few black curls fell from her crown-like updo and brushed against her neck; giving her beauty an effortless essence.
Soon after she entered the grand doors, a man approached her. He was older, but not too old. Maybe ten years her senior.
“You are breathtaking, it would be an honor to dance with such a beauty.”
A small grin curled her lips as she took the hand he extended to her. They danced wonderfully in the ballroom. They swayed together like a tree in the wind, his branches twisting with hers. Her black dress melted with his black coat and trousers and they became one beautiful black bird, floating and gliding freely.
The rest of the guests froze, watching the couple in a trance. The room fell silent, even the musicians were hypnotized by the dancers’ grace. The couple continued to dance through the silence, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. Their gaze was locked, transcending reality as they stared into each other’s eyes. They were somewhere else, transported by their dance. An unfamiliar world was created between their eyes that grew and spread like a halo around their interlocked frames.
The guests were not amazed, not horrified, they were not anything. The feeling of Nothing swept over them like a dusting of light snow. Nothing seeped into their hearts the longer they watched the dancers. This Nothingness would be with them until the end of time.
The King entered the ballroom confused the the silence and the stillness.
“What are you doing? I don’t pay you so my guests can stand around in boredom.”
The musicians resumed playing and the guests went back to dancing. Men looked for the beauty in the black dress and women searched for the man in the black coat. They seemed to have disappeared. No woman or man in black could be found.
The guests danced and carried on their night like they would any other. But they could not forget the dancers and the Nothingness that was left in their hearts.
As the night came to an end, and the guests began to leave, the image of the dancers in black haunted their minds. They left through the grand doors like sand falls through an hourglass, consistent and calm until the room was empty. No one spoke of the event, but there was a sense of understanding among the guests. They all saw the event, they all felt the Nothingness that remained, and they all agreed it was best not to dwell on the matter.
They would think about the dancers in black every day. Every man and woman, and lord and peasant who saw the dancers would carry on life with Nothingness inside them and the curious beauty of the dance in their memory. Each one trying not to think about it because they knew that just the notion of that night would cause them to fall into the same trance they fell to in the ballroom. How odd it is to ignore a memory, all while knowing it will never be forgotten. How strange it must be to lie to yourself and know the truth cannot be denied. They shut away their knowledge of the dance so they could continue living life in the facetious way they had before.  
One of the guests was a poet. He could not carry on like the others. He could not ignore the Nothingness. After the ball, his writing became only repeated attempts to understand the dancers. And to understand why they made him feel so uneasy. His attempts failed over and over again for years, until the poet had nearly given up. After hundreds, maybe thousands of discarded rough drafts, the poet wrote his last sentence. He wrote it and never again felt the need to pick up a pen. It was simple and short, and everything he had been looking for.
“I saw Death, and it was beautiful.”
this is the first piece of fiction that I've written that i actually like

— The End —