Salome with headold lovers hell bent

would have us dress in mourning clothes

.

for them

our dead love

they will never accept

our rejection of black

.

it is an abyss

a futile endeavor

tulip bulbs planted in drying cement

unable to blossom

.

no, no

we must never yield to this

.

as it is my nature

to move forward

grow toward the sunlight

moving my body

.

swaying salome

.

swooning to the music

.

the beauty of life in every note

whilst performing

.

the dance of the seven veils