Confession of Season

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This black silk gown glows back at me as I polish my ensemble with these ruby studs

He walks up behind me wraps his arms around me, the aroma of my husbands cologne

Sandalwood vanilla, a hint of musk, these are the things that create lust

 

Our driver is here he conveys, I gently walk in grace as he takes my hand

Luxury car, gleaming porcelain smiles, a gown of dreams in a sea of black

Our arrival has come so fast, a pageant of our rites

 

Men in their silky ties, black bows and happy tuxedos

An ocean of women in gowns of expensive taste, flowing everywhere in a daze

Perfume of money travels through the air, hair perfectly coiffed

 

It’s a festival of honor, where many come to stage their acts

An act of love, a prize to be won, so many wish for their turn

Our calling comes every season, a season of ceremonial passages

 

My husband and I take to the alter, the stage of performance

Symphonies of opera, crystal rain, I bare my soul for him to confess

Confession of the art of what it means to be an entertainer, poetic fantasies

 

I place my female rose on the shrine, he gives his male pride

All for the ball of intertwining the eras of madness and faith

I take my lead, he comes to take his

 

Our acclamation is sewn into the fabric of composition

Composing of what it means to live, to love

In each other we trust

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