Standing On Fame's Edge

I stand here in front of a fractured mirror Tracing veined lines and blemished pores, That in my waif-like outline I dream About spring’s young complexion…ripe virginal The glint of nubile aura humbling dawn's luster. Pity this lady; she’ll never understand How her portraits are becoming duller now… The texture of a hollow cheekbone, a saggy neck Reflects all the vanity disguised as anguish; My fear slowly withering under piled rouge Only to crack along a theatrical stage of old reruns, Blurring eye- mascara with heartbreaks concealed Against twilight's kept illusions. Pity this lady, a backstage prop , anonymous Reliving her glamorous world lost in time’s curtain call— Within a verbose oration across a dim looking-glass, I stand farther away, paint my famed mouth And wave at a vacant arena, Consumed by an explosion of stars pouring on my face. 10/10/2018 ----------------------- Contest of Craig Cornish: I Stand Here