Without a Word or Romance of Sevilla

Sevilla dances
Moves, articulates with motion
Untouched by the somber demeanor of her partner
She twirls seductively, elusively, beautifully
While party goers in the background
Revile in gaiety
She is a painter
And her two jointed brushes glide over hardwood,
The canvas of her expression
The men on looking regret
That never will they hold her
Soft skin
The band stops
And announces the next song will come shortly
She leaves her partner
Lovingly kissing his cheek before he departs
Immediately the room is alive with hope
A man, decked in aristocratic accoutrements approaches
He takes hold of her hand hesitantly
And kisses its perfection
Looking up he asks,
From bowed stature,
Voice laden with sexuality,
“A dance, my dear?”
All seems lost for the men on looking
But alas, she coldly demurs
Stunned, pride injured, he departs
Without a word
Again the room is hopefully anxious
And a man approaches
Less adorned than the former
He, the same as before,
Kisses the hand of beauty
And speaks, self-deprecatingly,
“Ma’am, I’m neither king nor prince
But lend me your hand
And I’ll dance you like no other.”
She hesitates, blushes,
And then, same as before,
All seems lost
But alas, she coldly demurs
His pride stinging, he departs
Without a word
Well now the room was not so hopeful
Two men of quality
Departed
For minutes, none approached
Till I could no longer bear it
I, a disgruntled looking fool,
A beggar,
A thief,
A no-good, low life scum
Dared approach her
I took her hand,
But did not kiss it
I pulled her towards me as the music started
And, lo, she began to dance
She pulled me into her divine show of beauty
And held me captive in a world
I’ve to this day never revisited
We continued on, next to each other
And I awoke the same that morning
We lay on a blanket up in the rafters
Of the dance hall
She in perfection
Her eyes closed and draped
In innocent sleep
Her body kissed the morning air
Like the brush of da Vinci
Kisses the canvas
She stirred and looked at me,
And smiled
Pulling herself up to sitting
She gazed on me
Blushing with the innocence
Of the virgin she had been that night
Not long before
“I love you” she said
“No you don’t” I replied, continuing
“You don’t even know me”
“Then who are you”
“A beggar”
“I love beggars”
“A thief”
“I love thieves”
“A fool”
“Then we shall be fools together”
“An overall rotten human being,
With little to no soul remaining”
“I don’t believe you”
She looked at me long, bit her lip,
And continued,
“Take me”
Well there, at that moment
At that time
I felt something
I was a lie
I would never love her
I did that night but never will again
She would never be the same
Innocent, beautiful, elegant woman
I had loved
She was just another
Faceless conquest
A nameless trophy
I hated my self
I hated my actions and my words and for a moment,
Brief though it was,
I looked down from the rafter
And prayed to fall
After a while she asked the matter
And, being a virtuous and honest man
I answered:
“Last night
Oh pitiful night
You were the epitome of every dream
I’d ever dared to dream
And I’d like to tell you that you still are
And always will be
But that would be lying
I’m sorry
Forgive me”
But, alas, she coldly demurred
And I left, pride stinging
Without a word.