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.