Masquerade

Masquerade
A Shakespearean Sonnet- by Kleo

We see him there across the marble floor,
Amid revolving roses-- dancers fair.
We see him spot us, look and look once more;
Your baiting black-flame gaze does him ensnare.
He stares, he blinks, approaches shyly now,
Observes my blood rose lips, my blizzard skin,
My sinful smile, arching queenly brow;
‘Tis true-- my poison features draw him in.
He offers us a dance with sweetest eye,
And quickly you accept with lusty look,
But then with venom fingers you untie
My ribbon, casting me on dusty hook.
         Thus I, your lovely mask whose face was thine,
         Do hang and curse your love which love is mine.