The trance of St Valentine (for Ola)

I sit and pine for lovers gone.  Reliving the moments of heartbreak and unrequitted love as if I am frozen in time.  I always want that which I do not have and want not what I do have.  Visually appeased in the presence of beauty, burning with desire in the moments of passion.  Yet fleeting is the feeling of consumption that should be reliquished to the holder of hearts.  In the moments when cupid's poison should be diluting my blood making me drunk with affection, I feel nothing. I have a wall.  No I have a fortress.  No I have a fortress surrounded by a wall surrounded by a moat--the bridge is never lowered and no one ever enters.  Chasing ghost in the halls as I grasp for second chances at the past, never heading the outside voices demanding entrance.  I am the bell of the ball in a brilliant gown dancing a solitary watlz to a skipping record in a dust filled room.  Cracks of sunlight illuminate the flurries as my hem sweeps the floor.  Drunk from the wine of sorrow behind the drawn curtains I never see the blooming of the rose.  Echoes of the world trickle in between the clacks of my heels on the floor.  I am waiting for one of those ghost to become real and partner with me in my mechanical movements.  It has been years and still I dance alone.  The sun turns to gold and sets in the west as I twirl turn prance step.  The birds of the morning sing songs of despair for the sun starts to rise and still I am there.  Two step through time with a metronome--crescendo violins-- the dance goes on.  Candles are burned to an inch of their wick, never do I slow nor do I sit.  Ghost that I hear past lovers I over whom I weep, not a one has come forth to take a dance with me. My hair has unraveled and my make-up now smeared realizing with a shock that I have been dancing for years.  Collaspse to the floor with a monotone thud, tears overflow like the mightiest flood.  The glass in my hand that's been continuosly filled is tossed with a vengance to the window sill.  The shatter is deafening as the pain itself breaks, with a great force of wind the curtain now shakes. Flapping so fiercely its forced from the hinge allowing at once the sun to come in.  The rays hit my face with a brightness that blinds and I'm seeing this room like the very first time.  The dust is mountain disgusting at best, the mold and the stain have discolored my dress.  The ghost have all left and the silence is heavy I walk to the windows with feet unsteady.  One by one I pull of the drapes glancing beyond to the luscious landscapes.  These beautiful gardens growing outside my door, how could I have been in here so long and leave them ignored.  Never more said the raven, never more said the bee, never more shall be solitude of the heart for me.  I am opening the windows---opening the doors--I am lowering the bridge to be crossed once more.  With brand new song and a brand new dress brand new dance and some brand new guest.  For to hurt is the curse of a heart that's broken but even worse is the curse of a heart not open.  Happy Valentines Day Mufuckas!!