I saw you dancing in the corner, alone, without rhythm
The music is great, but there seems a kind of dissonance
Your heart's wounds evident, pain is trapped therein
A masquerade everyday, emotions poured out in dance
The heart is a wineskin, torn, weary, the leaking begins
Poured upon the ground, tears fall, and not by chance
“his lips drink water but
his heart drinks wine”
e.e. cummings
