dancing

She twirled by the sunlight. It streamed in through the soft, slender, and translucent curtains. She danced, chest heaving ever so slightly. Breath soft, a mist in the otherwise dark room. Light lined the shadows. The room was cold. Her breath was tender. The marble floor was cold. She danced, barefoot. Her feet were lined with veins, were thin and wiry. They were agile, and with each graceful movement, they reminded the viewer of something. And yet, it was somehow utterly, indescribably unique. No poignant comparisons, graceful as a gazelle, poised like a lithe panther ready to strike. She was all of those things and more. She was none of those things. A thing unto herself. A comparison none other could make. She was unique. Her movement. She could be the best dancer in the world. She was the best dancer in the world. Her movement waxed poetic, it was hypnotic. She loved dancing. She had been born for it. A music only she could hear played in her head.

Her movement was soft, graceful. Measured, precise, and yet wild like the fires of a forest, the fires that could not be tamed, could not be controlled. Her breath was now even, controlled, measured. Her heart had settled into a steady rhythm.

Her eyes twinkled with the beauty and power she possessed. The melody of her dance wrote symphonies into the silence.

Her eyes twinkled with light and laughter, the corners of them sparkled with unshed tears. Soon, those began to drop. Hot and heavy. With each drop, her posture, unchanged, yet felt slumped, slouching in unto herself.

With each drop, her past came rocking back, careening to the surface of her before still, now turbulent mind - rocked with the waves of the Kraken inside her brain. Her hair whipped around, once gleaming in the light streaming in, now dull and lusterless. 

Clouds passed and settled outside. The sunlight began to dim. The sun began to make the pilgrimage to the other side of the globe as the globe turned to accommodate it. Hues of sorrowful red, mellow orange, and dampening yellow colored the sky.

She danced on, more erratic, less measured. Heavy breaths. Deep breaths. Chest heaving. Eyes filled with pain. Filled with a deep personal hurt. Tears brimming eyes rimmed red like the depth of kohl.

The room she danced in was bare. No photographs of family. None existed. Not anymore. Not on this land. She gulped back tears, almost choked on them. The sound was loud in this room. She could not stop dancing. Her feet, they began to bleed. She closed her eyes, opened them, shook away the tears, shaking her head more violently than needed. The tears flew, sparkling in their sorrow. The pain would not leave. Through her blurred vision, she saw that her feet were not bleeding. She was a little upset. Maybe if they had been… she was beautiful even in this vision. Maybe if she hadn’t been.

The room was empty, devoid of personality. Large windows brought in sunlight, but let out nothing. The room was empty. The room was locked. From the outside.