I had the front row seat
To the most confusing show
In history
When it ended and
The curtains closed
Or maybe they opened?
I was never sure
Either your mask was lifted
Or you were a methodical actor
You studied your audience,
You knew it well
You could orchestrate them like puppets
With a smile on your charming face
Then the script changed
My tears, soaking its pages
I ripped through it,
Searching for where this next part
Came into play
You’ve exited the stage already
Without so much as a bow
While I stood in the emptiness
Trying to unravel the anarchic story
Searching for a beginning
That could explain the ending
I comb through each scene by memory
Trying to figure out what I missed
Hunting for contradictions in your manuscript
But perhaps my memory has just failed me
Because I cannot recall the counterfeit moments
Maybe the final page has been misplaced
I’ve been left with the footnotes,
Unmarked with your annotations
The most brutal act remains
And it isn’t where the play has ended
It’s the one where I’m still searching for meaning
In a story you pretend no longer exists
You’ve become someone new now,
Embarking on another character arc
Waiting on an encore,
Another act—
Some resolution to a tale
I’ve begun to wonder
I made up entirely.
