Dancers-- my submission for montage

Dancing on a hard, cement floor.

Twirling about at ill grace,

You seek our very core

of love, peace and trimmed lace.

Arching backs and curved figurines

are placed above the wooden fireplace.

One speaks to the other--where have you been,

fondly, lovingly-- he strokes her face.

Slender fingers trace the epitome of desire,

hesitant, pleasured with the silky taste of lust.

We drown ourselves in fire,

the scorching flames spit out fantasies, stardusts.

Ribbons bind our feet together,

Scarlet, elegant but tortuous,

The weight of the world appears as the weight of a feather

Upon our legs, yet our faces are joyous. 

Teetering on the edge,

Cracks powdered, scars faded.

We mumble the sacred pledge

of ugliness and beauty-- a weight [over our shoulders] cascaded

_______________________________________________________________________________

Oh crap.
Why did I just submit this for Montage.
...
...
...
argh.

I guess I'm desperate to this extent.
~o~