Champagne Conversation Poem by royness ( ' ' )

I was not involved in this one, but
merely an observer. I watched
from across the room. My vision obscured
by the guests and glasses,
the hands raised in toast –

Dressed to impress,
she struts on high heels, somehow above
the smoke and conversation –
The stage is set.
She has waited on this moment -
her delivery is practised perfection.

Under her words,
his skin drains of all colour,
the jaw drops, the face
begins to crack apart –
He takes another drink, and
cordially
she lifts her glass to his.

Seconds later, there is little left
of the guest. He shrinks into his clothes -
a pile of bones and buttons, and a sorry
nodding head on top

She turns to face me,
holding her drink aloft -

A meeting of eyes -
a sip of champagne,
a smile.