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Away she went and he followed closely behind,
his eagerness reeking like sour plum in the air.
Her coy smile teasing, captivating, mesmerizing,
swearing, lying like the damned daughter of the devil.

The trap was set and he was in April’s hands.
It’s a dance, mind you, so she did her curtsy, and he, his bow.
They swayed in unison; she led, he followed.
The dance of death and despair has never been this sweet.

The music rose to its crescendo but he never
ceased to be captured by April’s capricious charm.
He was, in fact, her fool; and she was her
everything – his false dream, his senseless reverie.

Some wordplay and a bit of change in perspective and you have this. Also my April 1 entry for NaPoWriMo 2017! Check it out here for more details.



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