Corsages and Boutonnieres
Shedding petals like snow in a blizzard
As the bass drums beat the rhythm
Syncopating to the heartbeats that lead flushed cheeks
Into dances one after the other.
Again, one, two-
Hands that lose their hold on one another
Only to find their way around necks and waists
To swing to the slow rhythm of the music changed,
The bittersweet champagne of “Last Dance” sticking like
The spilled drinks on the floor,
In a puddle that nobody gives a damn about avoiding.
Breathing hard until their heads hurt,
They take the shadows to their liking and hide-
As the dying roses offer their melancholy scent to
The crisp winter chill,
Two by two they sneak out to
Breathe in slowly once again,
All the while, hands shaking- wishing that the night would never end.
But end, the night does,
And until the first light of dawn they dance away
Their conflicting feelings,
Leaving behind their empty shells as they metamorphose
That litter the sky with their regrets-
Regrets never to be claimed again.