you took me to the end of
the show, script bleeding red
on dusty, wooden planks and
you were smiling – standing
ovations, “it’s over” you said,
endless relief in watery eyes.
you know (just a whisper),
it was never about bright
painted platforms and the
soft sway of red velvet drapes,
opening, closing, lying crimson
into the face of the easy to hurt.
no, your settings were the
creeping bugs in your brain, which
drove you to spit and to spit
those words along beaded seats,
full of hopes and wants and
greedy nightmare magic, dreamlessly,
repeat & repeat and –
make them feel the way they
want, but can’t bear – and who,
you said, could?
This is my response to the One Stop Poetry Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. The prompt was shot by photographer Jacob Lucas. He is featured today on One Stop Poetry.