A Pearly Pit

A mouth stands agape

while hands grip the perceived porcelain sanctuary.

Eyes stream tears

and salt etches regret upon pale cheeks.

A bowed head raises and

on shaky feet starts forward once more.

The thespian unlocks the door,

a smile pressed forcefully to parched lips.

All the world’s a stage,

and her a player,

leaving peers perplexed and unsuspecting.

***thinking of a suitable title and finding it unsuitable…

[Revisions need to take place in writing and in parallel, life.  Grammar has bested me; no longer a friend.  Apologies.]

 

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