The girl in the white dress

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The girl in the white dress,
Stares at me, my body long and burnt,
Her eyes follow not where I go, not where I press, but where I have been in sorrow.

The girl in the white dress,
She reaches gracefully, arms outstretched, fingers pointed, legs poised. The wind is made of her soft caress.
All I long is to be like her, a gazelle, wild and at rest.

The girl in the white dress, takes my frozen palm, her eyes fixated on my dark skin,
Her pale pure outline fades,
She’ll not let it win.

The girl in the white dress,
The gazelle, the lady, the saviour,
She stares at me now, eye to eye, breast to breast,
My dark burnt skin begins to crumble, and my legs begin to waver.

The girl in the white dress,
To me is a fantasy,
Feathers in her hair and love in her stare,
I long for her to help me, to steal me, to fix me,
As I fall, she stays, my skin fades and the wind sways.

The girl in the white dress,
She stares at me now, a smile on her porcelain face and my heart in her hands, the girl in the white dress, she’s saved me now, with her only caress.