Turning key.

When the shadows come and mark the walls with occupied dark eager ear

I sense them on my skin
long before they appear

In silence I imagine that they're waiting for a chance, I can see them dancing like a turning key
On some strange jewelry box or keepsake box
And breathing comes with a heavier weight

As the anticipated date arrives, enslaved to the music of a tambourine

Just plagued to the rhythm of a twisted story
Behind the scenes of a studio hall, and I call but the echoes hurt my ears
And the courage to pursue wears thin, 

Like I said before, their presence evades my skin
And I move my feet and cannot stop, for that sound is loud and the music plays

There in the hallway the haze of white, a shape of a heart within the light

And the love of a monster beacons and pleads, the silent damage, blood rushes and bleeds, and the walls of white were red wine

In time the music stops and the best disappears
No longer the sound 
In my ears, that silence returns and the lights no longer dim, yet stronger than ever before

The door opens its chains, the locks unlatched, the windows let in that gentle breeze
My heart settled, more ease has come, no longer a frantic affair

In the middle of the hall
A chair, an a box, a turning key and a dance card

Some shoes, and a wedding gown.