Celebrity status

We put on a show, you and I...
My arm casually sling’s round your waist
Sitting, rigid and lax; comfortably affluent in its deception
As your hand rests dutifully on my left thigh;
And posed and rehearsed, our show commences:

I’ll spread my tight lipped smile into no-man’s land,

Hiding our sideways glances,
as you glance at me, lovingly, grudgingly...
We’ll kiss,
Publically,
One on one, we’ll laugh tiredly,
Elatedly we’ll talk at great length about nothing.
Barefaced, we’ll veil within pride, our rivalry.

We’ll both eat well mannerly,
Of course, counting the cutlery;
Checking your reflection in the spoon until it drop’s.
It won’t shatter...

Smile,
we’re not camera shy.

We’re Hollywood.

We put on a show, you and I.

And, as the end of the night draws to a close,
You will pretend, perfectly,
Your head will rest at an angle, softly, almost hesitantly on my shoulder.
I will smell the perfumed rose of your hair,
I’ll feel the plume of your adolescence brushing softly by me,
As your working hands see what they can create out of this,
Your searching heart carves an image out of you and I:

Molding,
Contemplating our depths,
Tracing our courses through the narrow winds; ‘cross the corrugating chasm’s of our fidelity,
The loyalty of you to me, and I, to you; to a toast:

When the party is over, we will dance softly.
Notably, it will be under a spotlight;
Promising the choreographed allure of another set of our hours in darkness,

And Lovelessy, Fickly,

You and I will show them...