My life is the stage.
The bright lights shimmering on the black gloss of the piano,
the intent audience beaming with anticipation,
the spine-tingling shivers you get when everything goes right.

I love the stage.
You leave it and people clammer about you,
force feeding you words of affection,
words of excitement,
words of belief.

No one ever wonders what it’s like when you leave the stage.
Do they really care?

A week after a show:
an army of fans.
Two weeks after a show:
they ask for you to do it again.
Three weeks after a show:
it’s like you never existed.

Is all you want from me a song,
a monologue,
a poem?

Did you ever stop to think that I’m more than just a voice,
a face,
a pen?

I feel like you think I’m a machine,
heartless,
soulless.

I am human too,
I am a pulse too,
and I am a soul too.

My life is the stage.
When I leave it,
I become my own shadow.

Matthew Skelly
October 5, 2013