Gorgeous Masquerade


She’s beautiful, isn’t she,
Rare, flawed, vintage pink,
And willing.
Intricate dressings, securely draped,
Essence beckons,
A gorgeous masquerade.
More than anything,
Your persuasion,
Motivates her, always.
Peeling back her layers,
Truth is conceived,
She’s no beauty, she’s a dream.


31 thoughts on “Gorgeous Masquerade

  1. Wow, love the photo and title ~ those two make this a brilliant post on their own…and then comes your words. The way you end this work of art is perfect “Truth is conceived, She’s no beauty, she’s a dream.” makes me want to stop doing anything, crawl into bed and just dream along ~ πŸ™‚


    • You sent me into the clouds on this comment of yours, you know. Dalo, I think you’re just biased, as you never say anything critical, and relish over making me smile. Thank you… πŸ˜‰ Let me scoot over and you can climb in…we can see where the dreams take us…oh, you meant your bed, probably.. Smirk. You’re such a charmer. Have great Christmas, if I don’t see you back here before Thursday. Hugs! Love to you and yours, my darling. xxx


  2. This poem is mysterious to me — which would fit with the masquerade πŸ™‚ The mystery came up in the last line, with “She’s no beauty.” I suppose that’s because I still saw her as beautiful, even though she was a dream. With those wonderful descriptions of her in the several beginning lines, I see her as beautiful yet. Even while being a dream and a masquerade…


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