more stories

prologue

it’s my cue
and they push me on the stage,
i’ve longed to be here for so long.
i walk to the rhythm of my breathing,
click-clack, shoes undone.
“this is not what we expected from you,
will you please… never mind”
i’m just the make-up artist —
i protest, to no avail
retracing my steps.

tibor

Enthusiastic photographer. Loves stories too.