I feel as though I’m being peeled,
exposed to the situation at hand.
Is it deception?
Was it an error?
A method to expose, tease, and apprehend?
I dislike lies, but perchance was she deceived in her own time,
this little lady to the left?
She wears sparkles upon her left hand;
her life’s a pantomime.
To the right of her, she offers a hand to those
within the room,
take care, gentlemen, she is indefatigable,
she’ll waltz all night,
flowery steps of thrice floating in the starlit skies.
Her sparkles, they light their path,
her and a lucky man,
the sizzling couple,
they’re entwined and they wouldn’t have it any other way.
But then she offers her glistening to another girl,
one slumped in the corner, in the shadows,
to brighten her way, and lighten the load of her heart,
do these lights need to be genuine to command her enlivening intent?
Do they need to sparkle in a manner that screams lavish,
The truth is that whichever sparkles are offered
to this poor girl,
tucked away in her own folds of darkness,
should be humbly appreciated, accepted and loved,
never mind the illusory dancer,
she is creating her own sense of candour and honour
through providing steadily,
yet seemingly inconsequentially to a needy other.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay
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