The Last Dance

A sad poem this one. I was at a dance last night, and I imagined this scene taking place on the dance floor



Reflecting from the ceiling
the strobe light lit her face
as she leaned into his shoulder
and the teardrop left it's trace
She worried lest her make-up
should give away a sign
that her heart was near to breaking
but she couldn't cross that line
He'd wanted her to leave with him
to leave behind her life
her family and her husband
and live to be his wife
She knew she couldn't do it
she couldn't even try
she'd never ever come to terms
with living such a lie
She'd have to tell him sorry
the affair was at an end
and the way that things were going
He'd not even be her friend
This dance would be the last one
they'd linger on, and then
her heart would beat for no-one
they would never meet again.