They renamed me
‘Ostentatious’
when the spotlight
loved me back
I wore my grief like couture
silk-scarred
slit to the thigh
of heartbreak
I turned tears into currency
and mascara into myth
my voice, when it broke
was bottled and sold
in perfume shops
that only opened at midnight
but in the wings
when the clapping stopped
I sat completely alone
removing paint and glitter
from my pearlescent skin
and whispering lines
no one had asked me to say
each night I dreamt
of a quiet life
of an honest name
spoken in a quiet house
and each morning
I awoke
to flowers thrown
upon the stage
plastic, perfect, forever
but the truth was not
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 