Illusion of a Dance (poem)

He’ll take my hand
and stroll me outside.
We’ll smile at the others
everyone knows what’s to happen.
I shyly glance for strangers,
and check my complexion in the glass.
He’ll straighten his bow tie
and ask me to dance.

But then I’ll wake up from my daze
and smell the vodka on his breath.
The vintage haze will run
and I’ll be left in the cold
with a man I barely know.
People will think me a whore
out with a man, in stupid hope.
He’ll put his hands on my hips
and force me to sway.
I’ll struggle and cry whilst
the observers giggle and tease.
I’ll be stuck with a man I hate
all because he asked me to waltz.
There’s no romance left in the world
only vodka, dollars and the illusion of a dance.

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