Breathe it in and hold it close to your chest.

The lights became her eyes.

She was alone

But the river of applause coaxed

Words into the memory of smiles of satisfaction.

It wasn’t about selling. Selling her,

It wasn’t about that. Not for her.

It wasn’t about becoming better than those with voices that

Flowed pure enough to cause shivers of understanding.

That was theirs. But she had hers.

It was for the ringing of her voice into the crowd of faces who finally regonize her.

See.

It was for the long nights and hard days.

Where the connection to the hands she held

Became.

It was

Ophelia.

It was eavesdropping on the future

It was getting stuck between floors with the pleasure of unexpected company.

It was learning the difference between want and need.

It was being uncomfortable.

It was surfing the decades.

It was us and them, then none.

It was drawing circles.

It was states of panic.

It was running rampant through the streets.

It was bs-ing a monologue memorized during first,

Standing up shaking while the second was at hand.

It was falling down The Rabbit Hole.

It was shoving it all in a laundry basket and chalking it up to childhood.

It was learning to let go of the approval from those we needed it from the most.

It was finding many voices.

It was third place.

It was air ducts and basements chock-full of fabric.

It was fake relationships with the realest people.

It was improvising mistakes.

It was loading up tables in trucks.

It was changing the world with five bucks.

It was

a deep breath.

In and out.

And on to other things.

An ocean of people.

A bow and a river of emotion that shimmers as

the curtain is

Called.