the midnight party

i danced with my illusion, knowing it was an illusion, no deception right? i played with good emotions, since what's there without it? i ran to the nearest restroom when the sweat, air and noise eventually got to me, found my old nemesis waiting inside the cubicle with a cudgel. i played it cool, feigned my usual bluff and brought out my faithful weapon of choice brought a cold calculating look while whistling merrily. it doesn't always work of course, poker face goes only this far, but all humans have limits too - tension rose, he did not take the bait, then it was all menace, ferocity, a fight, collateral damage. later on that night, i danced some more, to bring my mind off that awful encounter and found a partner whose rhythm matched mine, foxtrot, tango, waltz, samba, rumba, swing, cha cha till we both fell down laughing helplessly. i thought my partner oddly familiar, tucked away that thought as just nostalgia, absent mindedness then i heard the chorus of angels, at least i thought they were angels, sure sounded heavenly! i felt such bliss, my illusion agreed with me, matched my energy, was everything what thought perfection to be. i swayed, i toppled, i jumped, i heaved, i rolled on the ground, everything was just hilarious, intoxicating, liberating and yet my chest felt tight, my breath was shallow, my blood thinned, must be the highs i told myself so i threw away caution and gave many labels, rationales as to why. weaker, my mind scrambled to remember, found i could not, my muscles tried to remember, found it could not, the midnight strike came about, my illusions, my good emotions fell apart my nemesis breathed close to my ears, you got way too close. by this time, i could no longer fight back, no more need for posing, poker game is gone, the midnight strike - when hearts manifested.