Masquerade Ball

Ruby throated women;
High collared men.
Chandeliers and silver cutlery.
Flowing gowns and tailcoats;
Ruffles and feathers,
Glitter and masks.

I tread on marble floors
Hem of my gown
Skimming the staircase.
Hands brushing and lips pecking
Host and hostess; from nowhere
There is a mask. A façade.

Everyone dons a mask
Sealing identity; fake smiles
Throaty laughs, amusing caresses
And the ball begins.
My fingers graze my face; from nowhere
There is a mask. A façade.

'Oh, hello, and it is good to see you;
Lovely dress and pearls--
Your family jeweller never fails to please;
Oh, and your mask is stunning!'
I bow and accept fake ribbons of love
I smile and there is a mask. A façade.

'It's you I see.' She sniffles.
'Can't say I'm pleased;
Filthy company-- tardy dress.
Worthless girl; worth half pence.'
I smile politely but petulantly within.
Hell hath no fury like a woman masked.

'Would you care to dance?'
Sighing inwardly; stifling a groan,
'Oh yes, thank you very much.'
Revulsion, oh yes, at his finger's touch;
We position ourselves; he looks at me
I smile politely. A mask, a façade.

We twirl, we waltz. There is
A conversation of worldly dust.
Two left feet and two hurt feet--
The latter would be mine.
I thank him again;
'It was a pleasure.' Foolish, foolish, mask.

Wine and éclairs
Womanly conversation
Floats through the air
Thoroughly out of place, I
Laugh and talk; unknowingly
A mask appears. A shield, a wall.

'May I have the honor
Of this dance?' I smile-- truly.
We laugh and we foxtrot.
His words and eyes delve deeper
Thah others. But all he sees
Is a mask, albeit better than most.

My fingers ache of switching masks.
It is unconsciously done.
A mere presence, a single word,
And it is back up, like a glass;
But much less clear
And much more harder.

There is no one
I can dance with
Sing with, laugh with
Without a quiet mask.
Pull at it as I may,
Fear glues it to my face.

It is a part of me,
This mask-- this everchanging,
Colorful façade.
Multifaceted diamond it may be
But made from dark stone
Push it hard, it will never fall.

This masquerade ball will never end
This mask will never come off.
A moment of soltitude
And I dart to a mirror.
Behind me is a milling crowd;
I should be far from lonely.

I take off my mask
Only I can see
The face that is really me.
Forever I shall try to find
A person before whom I shed my mask
And fail. I am indeed lonely.

-Nicky Eira

11:13 pm, 16th March 2010