There are parts in this that are supposed to be in italics, but I'm stupid
and can't work out how to get them into italics, so I've resorted to little
star things *. Hope that doesn't make it confusing.
**
There are some times, beneath the smoke and sweat and behind the shadowed flames that I feel I could just get up and walk away from everything I've ever known.
I would walk until I reached that place where the sun meets the earth. The little strip between the world and heaven where dreams are created ready to be given to innocent hearts. I would journey until I came upon that broad spectrum, thin as paper, where angels dance in spotlights of starlight. The place where falling in love is just like hesitant whispers escaping from nervous lips.
*Would I ever make it to the place I barely dare to think about? The place I've grown to hate to think about? But still deep inside wish I was there. *
Outside the curtain of the Underworld I would run to that sunlit arena where rain falls like silver diamonds and lands in pools of tears that taste as sweet as honey on a gloomy day. It's that unreachable region that I so secretly long for, where sins are washed away and forgotten.
*To look at me, you'd never think, that I would think such thoughts. I barely believe it myself. I thought I'd forgotten how to dream.*
I know what it looks like, it's a silver and gold castle standing free upon a cloud. If I discarded every underworld rule and let loose every dark place of my being, I could build a ladder and climb up to stand inside those castle walls just for one moment at least and feel the warmth of its sandy floor in-between my toes. I would reach out and touch the smooth marble of the huge fountain in the centre of the courtyard, relishing in the cold water that would dribble down my arm. I would embrace the oncoming gentle breeze that washes over from the sea, like cascading sheets of invisible silk wrapping me up safe and sound.
*But I am not insane enough to build a ladder, the dark places of me would not let loose no matter how hard I tried. Instead the truth comes along and blows away those thoughts I was foolish enough to dream. *
The Moulin Rouge is my home. The smell of cigarettes and absinthe is entwined in my soul, the dust of kohl is forever settled on my face, the smears of thick lipstick and mascara stain my fingers and sleeves for eternity, the feel of tight corsets hugging my waist suffocate me day and night and the dampness of my tears on silk pillowcases over new bruises to my body haunt me.
The Moulin Rouge is my home. My home, my home, my home. That phrase repeats itself over and over in my sleep.
It's the home I wish to leave, I fear to leave. Leaving it would be my fairytale ending.
Shakespeare didn't get his fairytale, why should I get mine?
**
There are some times, beneath the smoke and sweat and behind the shadowed flames that I feel I could just get up and walk away from everything I've ever known.
I would walk until I reached that place where the sun meets the earth. The little strip between the world and heaven where dreams are created ready to be given to innocent hearts. I would journey until I came upon that broad spectrum, thin as paper, where angels dance in spotlights of starlight. The place where falling in love is just like hesitant whispers escaping from nervous lips.
*Would I ever make it to the place I barely dare to think about? The place I've grown to hate to think about? But still deep inside wish I was there. *
Outside the curtain of the Underworld I would run to that sunlit arena where rain falls like silver diamonds and lands in pools of tears that taste as sweet as honey on a gloomy day. It's that unreachable region that I so secretly long for, where sins are washed away and forgotten.
*To look at me, you'd never think, that I would think such thoughts. I barely believe it myself. I thought I'd forgotten how to dream.*
I know what it looks like, it's a silver and gold castle standing free upon a cloud. If I discarded every underworld rule and let loose every dark place of my being, I could build a ladder and climb up to stand inside those castle walls just for one moment at least and feel the warmth of its sandy floor in-between my toes. I would reach out and touch the smooth marble of the huge fountain in the centre of the courtyard, relishing in the cold water that would dribble down my arm. I would embrace the oncoming gentle breeze that washes over from the sea, like cascading sheets of invisible silk wrapping me up safe and sound.
*But I am not insane enough to build a ladder, the dark places of me would not let loose no matter how hard I tried. Instead the truth comes along and blows away those thoughts I was foolish enough to dream. *
The Moulin Rouge is my home. The smell of cigarettes and absinthe is entwined in my soul, the dust of kohl is forever settled on my face, the smears of thick lipstick and mascara stain my fingers and sleeves for eternity, the feel of tight corsets hugging my waist suffocate me day and night and the dampness of my tears on silk pillowcases over new bruises to my body haunt me.
The Moulin Rouge is my home. My home, my home, my home. That phrase repeats itself over and over in my sleep.
It's the home I wish to leave, I fear to leave. Leaving it would be my fairytale ending.
Shakespeare didn't get his fairytale, why should I get mine?