May: The Showgirl

I’m afraid,

that the day you’ll stop laughing at my jokes will soon come.

One day it (I) will get old, I won’t be exceptional no more,

and you will walk away.

I’m too smart, I know when it is time to act a fool,

and to let things happen because they will, 

that’s life and you cannot ask her not to.

I know that you have to sit with life 

and watch her happen, 

but some parts will kill you as they do. 

 

Nothing lasts forever, 

but would it please let me know before it leaves? 

I know that tomorrow might be better, 

but the night is long, the wait is exhausting, 

and I hate what I don’t know because it scares me.

Are you bored of me yet?

 

You’ve seen it (me) all, 

I keep reinventing myself, 

a new me every time you get sick of the old one, 

and when you miss the old me? 

baby I will dust her off. 

But if you decide that you’re done with my circus, 

and I have to stick to one character-

I’m scared I won’t know how.

 

This (life) is very scary, 

it’s like walking in a dark room and there’s broken glass on the floor, 

I didn’t even know I dropped something.

You must be relieved, 

that even if we run out of things to say

I still won’t, 

that it scares me, the stillness after liveliness, 

the emptiness of the space 

between and around us after it has been full for so long. 

So I patch things up, I fill the void with nothing. 

I say stuff, and you pretend to listen because your parents raised you well, 

but for how long 

will my conversations skills and your good manners keep us going?

(Don’t answer that)