Dior.

She takes a step forward as she steps back
Heels click on the carpeted floor
It’s been a while but she’s been here before

The people pause to stop and stare
Pause for breath sigh as she passes
Unreachable and untouchable to the least of the masses

Her hair drifts in the nonexistent breeze
Caught like a fallen angel beautiful without
Queen of the artic winds pristine sans doubt

The visage she presents another façade
Armoured thus in near nakedness she slows her gait
Vision of lust and life and temptress of fate

The inner soul she fails to see
Shrouded in Italian names and Vietnamese hands
Lost in a wilful forgetfulness that scours our land

These same halls she passes each day
Three years now they have felt her need
Perfume breathed spicy sweet and utterly unique

A heady concoction yet swathed in doubt
The heels make a clacking counterpoint
Anticipated riposte poignant

They crowd around yet fear to approach
The bitch untouchable full of grace
Full of doubt yet unexpectedly chaste

The ironic twist and turn of ironic fate
Holds further than arms’ thus keeps away
Though longs for someone longer to stay

Smell her sweetness and breathe her breath
But for moments pass until the clock he chimes
And alone again she herself she finds

I would taste her scent and breathe her breath
Embrace if I knew what would sate her
Confusing self in armoured flux herself away she keeps her