Bolero... the story.

 
She crawls, she slithers, like a serpent
stalking its prey. The music draws her
body to him in a state of surrender.
While she winds herself around him,
his indifference defies her wiles.

Who is this man to resist that for
which others have died. Armies
have been lost and Kings
have been humbled. Yet here,
my offer of me goes unnoticed.

Am I too old, to short, to tall?
Why does he gaze across the room?
What holds his attention and interest?
I turn and it’s obvious, she’s coiled
ready to strike, no need to crawl.

He stands transfixed, mesmerized
by the impending strike, oblivious
to me or the room. I am cast aside
liker a serpent shedding its skin.
Rejection is like death, no recovery.