Bethany After Midnight - The Ballad Before Her Name

I saw her where the red light fell, Where sandalwood smoke breathed a black dress in a velvet room, a candle-fed unease She did not enter like a guest; the doorway seemed to bow. The music lost its second beat, mirrors forgot their sacred vow Her smile was not a promise made, her eyes were not a door; but every man who met her gaze remembered wanting more. She wore the hour after twelve like silk against her skin; and every shadow in the room moved closer to get in. I knew the streets, I knew the stairs, I knew the road by name; I knew the map by candlelight And then I felt her flame. Bethany after midnight, The wrong angle of the room. Bethany after midnight, Her dark promise in full bloom. Not a woman to be solved, but a reality to haunt me. Bethany after midnight, and the whole room bent around me. One man saw a saint in black, one saw a velvet sin; one saw the girl he almost loved, one saw the wound in him. She changed without once changing, depending who drew near; she held no mask against her face, she made the gaze appear. Her perfume was a corridor That never was found twice; her laughter touched the chandelier and turned the flame to ice. I thought desire named the glow, I thought the hunger knew; but what I saw as Bethany was what the room let through. Bethany after midnight, The wrong angle of the room. Bethany after midnight, Her dark promise in full bloom. Not a woman to be solved, but a reality to haunt me. Bethany after midnight, and the whole room bent around me. The hallway wore her quiet scent, the staircase curved like hips; the wallpaper breathed softer when her name was on my lips. Her voice became a velvet door, her touch became a key; I stepped inside the Red Room and the Red Room stepped in me. No square corner in her mercy, no true north was in her eyes; all those lovely wrong angles made one enormous lie. I counted every exit sign, I kept one hand on light; but every door I opened opened deeper into night. Bethany after midnight, The wrong angle of the room. Bethany after midnight, Her dark promise in full bloom. Not a room I remembered, but the room that remembered me. Bethany after midnight, and the whole room bent around me. No one saw her whole. No one left with proof. Only one more version of an unknowable truth. I went home before morning, or I dreamed I did; but the hall leaned slightly wrong, the mirror kept secrets hid. My house stood where I left it, with its porch light pale and thin; but the door gave like red velvet when I quietly ventured in. The hallway narrowed softly, the walls breathed close and warm; and every family photograph looked wrought in her Salon. My bedroom held its shape at first, then tilted by degrees; the mirror kept a darker door half-open just for me. The ceiling watched above me, the walls breathed deep and moved then the sheets caressed like fingers and the dark lay with me too. The air hung thick around me As her breathing took its place and every room leaned inward with Bethany’s hidden face. Bethany after midnight, The wrong angle of the room. Bethany after midnight, Her dark promise in full bloom. Not a woman to be solved but a world I couldn’t leave. Bethany after midnight, and the whole world bent around me. Every room leaned toward her name. Every room leaned toward her name. Bethany after midnight. Every room leaned toward her name.