Masquerade

there was something there –
something in his eyes dark, drowning,
and older than it should have been.
his eyes were the clearest mirrors and
the look was far too intimate –
she reeled back as if that almost gentle touch
was a massive blow to her senses

tasting the first edge of tears,
his eyes lit over her like
that part of them they trap in dreams
and deny during daylight hours.
the tension was there –
painted in neon Crayola flashes
and left hanging for all to see.

their passion twisted and flared
like candle flames in the pale light –
cool, white flames like
that full moonlight which attracts
the lone wolf on his hunt –
helping to pull them through and
reach what they hoped was an endless night.

so start the masquerade –
play the music, don the mask,
and take this illusion in disguise.
as she danced that passionate night
with her only love – this stranger pressed to her –
she scorned the truth of it all
and needed only the lies.