Costume Party

Molly wore a French maid's dress
And let her long, creamy-white legs show
Through her black fishnets.
She faked a surprised French smile all night
And pretended not to notice the attention.

George wore Zorro's mask
And a long black cape, which he swished about,
Making Zs in the air with a plastic sword.
He hit on every woman at the bar
And thought, for the night, he could be Don Juan.

Helen wore a black bodysuit,
Claws, and a black mask with ears,
And spent the evening looking for Batman.
We wondered why she didn't dress like that more often -
She had the figure for black spandex.

Alex seemed to have forgotten the "costume" in costume party -
I remember how you laughed when he came in
Dressed like, he said, a character in a horror film.
But he wouldn't say which character,
Only that he was sure he died before the end.

And then there was you - you wore
White face paint and a black sweater
And claimed to be Death.
You looked more like a mime, with your face paint
Still clinging like gloves to your lange, tender hands.

And I wore pale pink with quivering wings strapped to my shoulder blades,
And a golden halo shimmering above my golden hair,
And danced, and laughed, and drank the punch,
(Are you still sure, dear, they never spiked it?)
And was happy for the first and only time in my life.

I dressed like an angel, and you treated me as one.
And I felt better in your arms than I ever had anywhere.
And when I took the costume off,
Late that night in your room,
I was happy for the first and only time in my life.

But happiness doesn't last, and neither did you.
I guess you were more of Death than you seemed,
For the love you gave me died that next November,
And I have left only regrets, and shadows, and memories,
And the costume of a smile I let no one see behind.