Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh. *sniff*
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I appreciate the finer things in life.
I happen to like wearing drop dead sexy little numbers and driving around in sweet little fancy cars. I dream of traveling the world, seeing all the sights. The doors of Paris open before me, the City of Lights. Rome beckons, City of Fountains. Wouldn't think me to be a historical sightseer, would you? Someday, my winding path will take me there. Someday, even, to New York, and Los Angeles. I will see the plays on Broadway. I will shop in the trendiest places, I will saunter down the streets of Las Vegas. But for now, I am stuck here.
They think I'm shallow for it.
I've had to take care of myself for a long time. Maybe that's why I think the way I do-because I've had to make my way in this world of cruelty and pain, torment and suffering.
They have no idea.
So now I stand in my apartment, alone save for my music and myself. My cards keep me company. The faint, soft-sweet scent of jasmine clings to my skin.
Dance without sleeping/I'll dance without fear/Dance without senses/No message I hear/Dance without sleeping/I'll dance till I'm numb/Dance till I think I can overcome...
I've put up with more shit than they can possibly imagine. And they wonder why I'm so caustic.
I am strong.
Men bow before me. Good. They should know their place.
I dance, dance to the beat, dance in the low light. The rhythm moves me, pounds in my veins. It fills my entire being, floods my body until all there is is the music. My footsteps carry me in a breathless swirl, around and around...
I stop.
It's simple, really. Just a little thing.
A tiny smile quirks at the edges of my lips.
I don't know why I kept it. I have thrown away far more expensive things, simply because they displease me. Then I laughed in the faces of the men who had the gall to hit on me. Me, the goddess.
A flower.
It's dried since he first gave it to me, and now it graces the top of my dresser, alongside my earrings and eyeliner.
Why is it here?
Because I put it here.
Why did I keep it?
I don't know.
It's soft against my fingertips. Funny how it can keep its perfect scent and shape long after it has been plucked.
I can almost feel his breath ghost across my skin. Light, quick touches. A gentle kiss of air brushes past my face, rustles in my glorious hair.
Shallow? No.
There's more to me than my Harpy Ladies.
I will never give up. Never.
