Heartbreak at a Diner

Just another casualty in a theater kid's life, c'est la vie...

It’s 11:35 and the car is cold.

Hot tears are caught on my fake eyelashes,

Mixing glitter into the salt.

 

The spread of sparkles and mascara disguises me as a back alley prostitute,

 

And my lies have disguised me as okay.

 

You don’t even know.

 

You don’t even remember.

 

What was I?

 

A fling?

 

Some sort of juvenile past, all lost in the ghost of the theater?

 

Is it no longer a hallowed place for you, or was it never?

 

Am I “just one more?”

 

For you were my one,

 

And you were my only.

 

I suppose the clock has struck midnight,

 

And Cinderella has been left broken,

 

Raw,

 

Torn to my barest.

 

So bravo,

 

Of all of your acting parts,

 

You played me best.

 

Now there’s only the dark to witness my steamed outpouring of my hot tears.

 

It’s 11:45, and the car is cold.

Author's Note

I wrote this in the parking lot of a diner after leaving the cast party for our second performance, so no, I do not wear glittery fake eyelashes just for the fun of it. I promise.

Reviews

[Allendorker]

I like the descriptions and feeling of emptiness you described as well as the comparisons to theater aspects. I think you could expand more on what happened with the actual heartbreak as well.