Palms sweaty as I turn that corner. The curtain nipping at my shoulder.
Paying close attention, I bend my knees, lest mother dearest beat it forth.
Clearing throat, clearing eyes, clearing air, I proceed.

An ocean. A black ocean. Or perhaps, I've become blind. No, no good sir, I
have not. Twinkles glisten among my audience of none. Oh how they applaud.
Time counted, moments longed for, I turn to you. Oh sweet love of mine, I
turn to you.

Perfection upon the stage. Oh my dear, thats not far into the world of
parrallel metaphors. Locked in that timeframe. I would not have it any
different. Shocking to the tongue, I breath once more at the thought of your
performance. I gaze, as your beauty permits me.

I make my way to the seat. Covered in nothing but the scorn upon its face
for being the least of my thoughts. I gaze into those eyes, those dark, dark
eyes. And as I switch between each one, I fall more and more in love with
you. Cascaded in perfection; my thoughts return to the nether. I dare
concieve one thought. One brave gesture:


May I,
Just once,
Touch you?

May I,
Just once more,
Recite for the world, our tune?

You nod, oh of course. Silly me, the shopkeep who worries. To think you
would not beseech upon me the permission.

Hair on end. Yes, they long for the contact, too. They seem to want to touch
you more than myself! But I assure you, dearest, they mean no harm.

Inches now from your skin. I cannot help but admire it in these moments. The
elegance, the beauty of creation at its most pure. Soft... Yes, that's the
word. Subtle is your scent, oh my its invigorating. This, is the moment, in
which I fall in love with you, once again.

I stare into those eyes, once more. And gaze blindly into the lustrious
teeth in which your maker has gifted you with-- oh how white and gorgeous
your smile. Envy of the angels, I doubt not.

Arm in arm, we begin this charade.

"Let them watch?" I hear you whisper.
"Yes, my sweet. Let them see us."
 
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