Melpomene

He showed me that all the world's a stage

a constant manipulation of rehearsed lines

and babbled manuscripts.

he directs me.

I put on makeup, carefully

erasing wrinkles and worry lines

creases from time.

take a shot of liquor lubricant for frazzled nerves and 

anxious butterflies still in their cocoons,

buzzing to a wind that cannot hold them.

shouting voices heard to an empty theater while

crickets form an electric hum as the spotlight

casts its vigilance upon me. 

shadows dance on walls

capturing moments past. 

I hear the credits rolling already in my mind;

who stars the show-

who plays the sidekick,

the annoying plot uncovered as the antagonist

wins in the end. 

Act Two, Scene Three

enter stage right

exit stage left.

he creates a scene.

tells me that he loves me.

i invoke the numb set of emotions

only this character can give half-heartily

cry a little for the crowd,

see that its all in vain

the crimson curtain closes,

its golden tassels swaying in the air-

a single red rose is thrown

and applause is silent. 

-b.r.rivera