In the end
my heart relented
capitulated to the truth
spreading like a cold fog
in its depths
This was my doing
I had summoned her here
this heresy was mine to bear
this heavy weight sat within my chest
in this awful place
this ballroom
with its bright draperies
and  terrible opulence
blazing candles and music
filled the hall
and I
a primped and polished peacock
in my coat and tails
and white-gloved hands
like a ridiculous clown
standing by
with a nervous fidget in his feet
and a presumptuous
painted on smile
I was in no condition
to bear witness to her entrance
from the top of the stairs
she descended
like a banner
unfurling down the long grey stones
of a fortress wall
she wore a dress of
chiffon and velvet
and as she stepped
onto the flagstones
where I stood in a puddle of agony
she moved to curtsy
but the ghost of my honor
rushed forward
and captured her gloved hand
in mine
there is no plain of existence
on which I am owed
such a gesture
the surprise in her eyes
at my forwardness
gave way to a breaking smile
across her olive features
her dark eyes
like pools of night
and my own
so unable
to avoid them
as the waltz started
her hand and mine
palm to palm
her other on my upper arm
my hand at the small of her back
clumsy with the silk ribbon bow
that foiled a comfortable resting place
I found that my feet remembered
a strange dance
from antiquity
an echo of a time where these events
meant the summit
of the social hierarchy
Titles instead of names
names instead of faces
faces only at your peril
I felt the iron anchor
of my responsibility
dragging at the backs of my legs
threatening to buckle me down
and clasped in our dancers embrace
she with me
but what broke my heart
all the more
was to notice
the single scarlet gem
they had given her to wear
like a large drop of blood
it sat at the base of her throat
and with each flourish
each slowly spinning arc of our dance
as she and I orbited one another
like two stars of a binary system
the garish light
of this mirrored menagerie
imbued it with fire
and it cast out its sparkling
red light
upon my face
the walls
the floor
was the jeweled end
of a cruel and cold pin
that impaled this butterfly
to the wax blocks
for the amusement
of her
and its red flaring pulse
was the spilling of her blood
in waves of light


About Eric

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23 Responses to Pendant…

  1. Emily says:

    What a dance for the mind! Beautiful tragic imagery. So what is he going to do to free her from “them”…I wonder… ❤

  2. Ms. Vee says:

    Lovely Eric !!!,❤

  3. psaintsmith says:


  4. Eric says:

    Thank you, Beautiful! ❤

  5. Mr Modigliani says:

    Eric, I never want to hear that you are not an artist. I saw this like the finest painting, in its fullest color

    • Eric says:

      Thank you, MM. From one artist to another I appreciate your support and enthusiasm. I’m glad it reaches your imagination as well as it does mine.

  6. Stunning imagery, in every sense.

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