Pictures flickering over skin

Face turned away from light
her head hangs low
cradled inside her hands,
like a dropping snow-drop
as if she'd fall apart without support.

Her resting body finds it hard to breathe
the little black dress is too tight;
she reaches for another hand,
gracing the air like a darting dragonfly
then hovers and returns to her side.

The blur of life- a cinematographic film
rising from the nights sky,
screening in the bright glow of her yolk white eyes.
Which turn over and over;
hysteric at watching her ghost-twin dance her life again.

There's no air of upper class here
the smell of sweat and grass fills the blank space,
her body framed by a powdery snow of light.
Sitting like the rim of an iced pond
around her nostrils.
A fanlight of coloured glass above her door
projects distorted shadows,
people out back in the parking lot
that don't feel drunk enough yet.
Spilt red wine like a royal carpet
leading somewhere.