I watch you dance, on the floor

Of the flat you rented from the

Chap upstairs.

You're wearing little

A little lingerie

That he bought you

To try to entice you

Into bed.

Didn't work, my china girl, you

Look so happy, just dancing on the floor

Eyes glazed over, you're dead to the world

And I am dead, like you

To everyone but Fyodor

And a few select friends.

I'm so sorry that you'll never be famous,

My love,

But to me

You've always been a work of art.