Palm in palm,

Light towards light,
Intertlapsing.

The spiral of a patterned skirt,
twirling of the wheel, a grey tornado in its wake.

One passes the other, a Girl masked by an owl’s face,
Their eyes are black holes in a blinding galaxy, a year to the day of the
ball,

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As one vehicle brushes the other, the moment in between.

Notes grab hold to the air, leaving a rhythm of infatuation,

Waves drown the silence, as his elbow shatters the glass to
break free.

Switching in and out, seeking for the others white glove,
His feet beat against the ground, towards the translucent
flame,
That was drawn by Her devastating spark, Her skin now
rusted.

A Goddess, breaches into the heart under his mask while She
dances,
Love poisoned by the flesh, eye to eye, palm to palm-
She leaves as a spectre.

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Their faces unveiled by Aphrodite’s touch,

Separated by the dashboard, as the flames nip at his achilles,
Seared in pain.

Her feet dangle from the balcony like a fan from a ceiling, in constant spin,
Underneath the polka-dots above the clouds, Her body ponderous in his arms.

He catches Her from slipping off the marble edge, as She takes off her golden heels,
Dialing the three numbers, from which the hellish horror trails,
That he’d once seen that golden tint before.

Taking in the mural, the unclear mirage of the night, as She stood above him giggling with
delicate finesse,
Still seeing the galaxies, the worlds that are within- looking past Her crisped skin to see only Her
frailed critique.

They think of the world that awaits them, and all of its boundless possibilities,
Realizing now, the delighted essence that was,
Of a girl who was butchered by the Labyrinth.

The car lights head out the driveway, towards the split sea, held apart by Her
magnificence.

Sirens blaring in the distance, the horn of devastation, behind his abhorrent
screams.

Mansions encompassing, the light of riches everlasting,
And between the rise and fall, the closing of Her eyelids,

Then the polite urgency of his leave, as he clings to Her corpse.

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They yearned for the moon to replace the sun, hoping Phaethon
would never arrive again.

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A man that was now a boy once more, weeping like a willow,
swaying back and forth.

He says goodnight to Her, having Her promise to phone in
the morning.

He then walks to the edge, jaded, down the patterned
rocks,
Kneeling at His river, seeking Allah, murmuring:
“Twas the love, the beauty, the innocence- that took Helen from me.”

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