The ballroom swells, a gilded sea of faces,
Each fan and laugh a ripple in the tide,
Yet here I stand, a trembling boat of silk,
With fraying sails and frizz that cannot hide.
The chandeliers hang like frozen constellations,
Diamonds dripping from a night’s sky held in glass,
But oh, my dress, a patchwork of regrets,
Its seams a whispered scandal from the past.
And then I see you—across this grand mirage,
A comet streaking through the velvet crowd,
The world recedes, collapses in upon itself,
As though the stars have crumbled from their shroud.
I swear, the air itself forgets to move,
The music sways and falters, dulls its song—
For all I know, the clocks have ceased their ticking,
And time has never seemed so wide, so long.
Yet look at me—no powdered rose, no grace—
Just frumpy folds of muslin dull with wear,
My hair, a tempest tangled in despair,
As if a gale had swept through every hairpin’s care.
I watch the ladies float on polished heels,
Like swans that glide, serene in perfect line,
Their whispers flutter soft on stolen air,
And rumours circle, darting sharp as brine.
No one can send a note or dare a glance,
For we have only fleeting eyes and talk,
A stolen murmur passed from lip to ear,
As tender secrets blossom in the dark.
You turn, a sculptor’s dream of marble grace,
And though you see me, do you truly see?
My gown a wilted lily in the rain,
My beauty buried deep, where shadows flee.
But in your gaze, the world begins to fade,
The ballroom’s glitter melts into the dusk,
The whispers fold into a distant breeze,
And all that’s left is you, and I, and us.
The stars themselves have dimmed for this, I know—
The lights of Earth grown quiet for a spark.
A breath held in the silence of the crowd,
As we are written in the dark.
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