Masquerade Party


I walk straight in under the veil of secrecy wearing a mask, that’s when I return there, I mean these people have to pair off eventually, it’s couples night right, being invited back to their cordial invites, but if I may ask, “Why is this one clinging on to me?”

Why is this one clinging on to me? I will have to ask why she is, why is she clinging on to me and what does she want, yet I must be polite. Oh, and I do admire this one.

I’ve had to ask why she is clinging on to me. What were her emotions, was this her last vestige of hope, as if herself a rose, there are the parts of a rose whose names I must learn, and the patels have all fallen off of this part.

This rose has now lost all of it’s relevance, the petals have all fallen off.

Since when must I learn all the parts of a rose, their technical names, also a flower, but go on please, and neither am I a Botanist but if I may, why is she clinging on to me? The way patels cling on to the parts of a rose in it’s center, okay, it’s like I’m that part, “The Stamen,” the center of her attention, hmmm, that is the parts name!

Here I must learn something else before going on and that is to learn more about a rose, all of their technical names and then proceed to call to her, oh it sounds so precious, “My Pistil,” and “You are Sweet My Darling.” She smells so nice!

Well, little does she know that this one rose, this woman who is worn, probably worn from all her years of a hard and rugged life, but she’s just as charming even when she wears her work clothes. “I’ve got to keep my eyes on you honey, obviously!”


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