scuro bello

D. W. Metz

whispers louder than screams
not all what it seems
in the corner dark she sat,
across the cacophony of lace
and hair dye.
she beckons with her silence,
inspires with her presence.
bring me my wine and a pen
before she’s gone.
sheepish he faces the corner visage,
the verdant walls behind a canvas,
the oak veneer presenting her glass,
crimson sipped with elegance.
his breath went still
as his eyes met hers.
at once her gaze was inside him,
a mask to everyone else
she saw the face beneath
and wanted not to shudder.
breaking the gaze he turns to his courage,
he turns back and the corner is vacant.
a whisper beside him nearly startled,
“what are you hiding from?”

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