Ballerina (pt. I)

He holds me and keeps me from harm.
He kisses my neck and works his charm.
He whispers sweetly into my ear,
With words no one else can hear.

I am his ballerina.
And I know no more than this.
I am his ballerina.
Still enticed from his final kiss.

He says I’m his and it will always be this way.
We’ll dance together, but as night fades to day,
His image becomes less clear,
And he begins to disappear.

I was his ballerina.
Until the day he left me cold.
I was his ballerina.
And my story is still untold...