Ballerina

As the curtains splendidly rise,
I come before your sight,
You lay your gaze on me
I mistake it for amity.

I twirl around the stage,
And I see your gaze follow my trace,
irredeemably deluded,
I believe to be blessed.

At the penultimate spin,
I gaze into your eyes
And I thus commit the sin,
The sin of affair de couer.

Alas! Reality beckons
and I exit the stage letdown.
The curtains then close mundanely
And so wanes the man's sobriety