*This was originally supposed to be the final segment of a 5-act poem. Except I never wrote the first 4, and I think I like it just the way it is.
She rends her dreams and mends her smiles, continues on while all the while
you wink and nod, bow and applaud
at the stage she's set before you.
The bawdy tunes, the well-kept ruins, the innocence and the lewdness,
all contrive to make her strive
for more than a torn velvet curtain.
The final act begins in silence, the calm before a sudden violence
she hits the mark, descends to the dark
in an Act of Desperation.
She hid it well, that broken heart, but I knew her well, I played my part
the finished scene, a smile so serene
you would think her near to waking.
I bow my head, now, at her cold grave; nothing given, nothing saved
I will not weep, though my heart will keep
the act that stole the show.
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