The last show is over. The screen blank.
All the words, laughter, colours, songs,
Glitz, glam and melodramatic emotions
Are over. No more love. No more pain.
The screen shall blank forever remain.
Phrases, lines, promises and catches
Of songs replay themselves in the black.
And the flashback starts with a jerk
Behind closed eyes. The voices heard
For the last time, resound and doze off.
A glass of wine held in cold hands
Trembles with unfulfilled hopes,
Aspirations false. Darkness clouds in.
The colourless poison mixes well
Drop by drop
Into the lusty red wine and
Disappears in the taste of wasted grapes.
The hall is large and dark and empty.
The chairs are where people have been.
The steps to the podium rise and go
Nowhere but sigh at the nothingness.
The screen is blank, dark and wears
A dark mourning shroud. Silence.
Eyes close and the icy cold air enters
The nostrils in a long long breath and soothes
The burning skin and inflamed insides.
Promises and dreams break away like
Shattered glass. And a salty drop
Plops into the still wine and dissolves.
Lips touch the cold edge of the crystal wineglass.
And sip it in as do the eyes of a lover drink his
Beloved’s face with a strange yearning
And smear her face with love dreamt and discarded.
The final dreg and a kiss on the edge are all
That shall remain, as remembrance and signs
Of a forgotten tomorrow, a forgotten love
And an intoxicated belief of peace in death.