Description
"What is this?" he hissed inching towards me, his eyes darkened as his lips quivered. I stood dumbfounded as I stared back at the note laid in-between his fingers. A poem, it was a poem. One I had left within my daily journal, however I would've never assumed he would pry onto my privacy for such a case. Did he actually believe that I was capable of...murder? "I don't know what you are talking about." I uttered staring back at him. My voice was shaking, lips quaking as I clenched my fists. His face lightly contorted into that of disgust before he shoved the note on my chest, with force, I tippled backwards, only finding myself nestled by his bed. My chest began to pang harshly as I looked up at him. He remained livid, as a tear droplet wound its way to his cheek. It was evident through his stance and light brush of his head. However I only stared back at it, I didn't want to open it, because I knew what was in it. Dance of the Century What be this melody, That draws me in so, With naught but its beat, And my feet to it doth go? It is so familiar, So seductive, so alluring, Yet only I seem to be in tune, As others gaze upon me, fearing. Mayhap I have not forgotten, Despite my faulted upper mechanics, The dance of the century, Dance Macabre, where all must dance, Until their souls set free. - To Andrew His eyes bore into mine, as tears glistened at the edge of his eyes. "What the hell have you done." he whispered with his manner of accusation weighing heavily in the air.
Author's Note
