He plucked her, picked her out,
Out from the writhing sweating crowds
And told her that this is what dreams are
Made of, vodka and gin,
Doused her with his fantasies
Took her away from the safety
Of the dancing swarming masses.

Down he led her away across the cobbles
The broken glass glittering like frost
Under the cool of the northern moon.
Yes he called it seduction
As he led her up to the castle
And still she held his hand.

And then, she did not remember
A staircase perhaps and she
Was in his room, naked,
She stood like a statue
Frozen under the electric light
That blurred out the distant moon.

Then he took her, laughed at her
Because she did not have a clue.
She looked away and saw her
Wide staring eyes in the mirror
She could not contemplate those
So instead she looked at his wardrobe
What a shame, he had not tidied his clothes.

And then it was over,
Awful fumbling, and she mumbled
A farewell and left, fled, down a staircase
And through the sleeping town
Her tights grasped firmly together
In her shaking palms
And all the while the tears poured down
Below onto the icy ground.

She made it across the bridge
She did not pause to look at the water
Like she had done before.
She knew now that she was different
Although she was not quite sure how
But her daydreams had always been
Different, nothing like the nightmare
She lived in now.


Rose Maguire