the heavily embroidered velvet lifts to reveal a solitary figure illuminated amongst the shadows. she stands in position – focused solely on the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. after an eternity of moments, the soft bass of her intro washes over her. at once she is lost in its heady beat.

the music builds and its darkly raw carnality is echoed in her movements. each extension – each graceful line and jolting break is a visually emotive expression of a memory. this is no mere choreography of steps but a sensory experience.

the world around her grows breathless as she weaves her hedonistic seduction amid grande adages, sous sous, and intoxicating waltzes. her skilled toes mimic the racing pulse of her palpitating heart. her hands become his hands as they graze the sensitive protrusion of her collarbone. her head falls back as she succumbs to the visceral memory of his touch. fingertips sweep in a flirtation of gravity. he means to break her and she is powerless to withstand.

it is not his wanton hands dancing across her torso, but the ghost of them. his lips do not trail her prickled skin, yet the essence of histouch burns like fire through her veins. she is on the cusp of discovery yet the anguish of denial guides her feet.

her world is but a pin drop yet she weaves a web of magic. and they are the skin under her potent caress. they are the inferno ignited by the touch of her lips. they, too, feel the unbearable torture as she denies completion.

she is oblivious to all that sit entranced before her as she bleeds her story upon the stage. with an abrupt and jarring clarity the haze lifts.

she stands once more illuminated amongst the shadows in defiant self-bravado. the silence deafens as the world erupts around. she fights to hold the crumbling pieces together as she searches out the only face she longs to see. tears break the barrier and run in two graceful streams down her cheeks for she knows not if the face now staring without emotion will have gifted her her very last dance.

c. 2014 b.l. ronan
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