Just a short time ago,
we first spoke.
Not too long ago,
we exchanged names
A week or so after that,
numbers too.
Only 5 months ago,
I became yours,
you became mine.
My dearest,
*I love you. With all of my heart!

She draws a narrow black line
On the outside of her eye.
"It keeps me awake", she said
But that was merely a lie.

Eyelashes covered thick,
Defined and long
To even-out the contrast
Of that black line she put on.

The day rolls by slowly,
That black line starts to fade.
Her eyelashes erode,
Yet no notice has she made.

She spies her reflection,
Screams for a bathroom - or a booth?
It isn't that long before
She discovers the truth.

There was no narrow black line
On the outside of her eye,
Though she still looked beautiful
And it eased her troubled mind.

Looking out at the empty seats,
I see the faces that have taken them in past times.
In only a few hours those seats will be filled,
Filled with new faces.
Each face waiting for a mess up,
a foot out of place,
a word forgotten.

Those seats,
the row marked reserved,
the critics are coming tonight.
Fear,
Terror,
Horror,
Thoughts.
"What if I forget a line! A step!"

Practice,
Rehearsal,
Every movement is perfected.

Make-up on,
Not a hair out of place.
Prayer circle, check.
Chant, check.
Props in place, check.

Curtain call,
First position,
Cue music,
Curtains open,
Show starts.

It all flows together, so flawlessly.
"Why did I worry?"

Critiques come back,
Simple fixes to simple problems.

It's over, till tomorrow night.