Black Swan (Aronofsky, 2010)

You sang like a carnival mermaid to the curious onlookers with their noses pressed against the glass. How their fingers would shrink, and ball so tightly with every delicate whimper your frayed voice served. Their breath, heavy and lustful, fogged the glass, leaving you in a haloed dream of wandering innocence, with noses full of perfumed memories, prickly skin, and a clean unsoiled world, where every possibility wears ribbons in its hair.

Their vision was blurred to the dark rings around your eyes and the way they spun so freely to every passionate desire others confessed. They are all so unaware of the tip-toeing feet you listen for on opposite walls. “Who’s listening, and what should I do to excite them?” You think. And still your voice whimpers. Every crack becomes a cavern, sinking deeper and deeper into a well of muddy perfection. Let’s swim in those waters.

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