Leading Man

You take my hand and draw me near
Fingers closing about my own
Tracing lines across my palm as I sigh
Whispering words nonsense, you breath
Against my hair, my neck, my mouth
Our kiss lingers like a janauary rain
Or like the last leaf to decend from the branch
Clinging, hoping, praying to never end
I forget everything but the sensation that I am
Swiftly falling, faster, spinning out of control
I am the novice, you are the master...
My eyes are open to see your face
As you mouth leaves my own, I'm left winded,
Bown away as though by a gale
You are speaking, but I cannot hear the words
I can only feel
I can only react
Oh, god! What am I to say? To do? Have I
Forgotten my lines? Please, don't let this happen!
I speak the words I have memorized like they
Are nothing to me. Second-nature. It all comes
Back. I speak, wait, listen. Eventually, you are
In my arms once more. Our bodies pressing close
I can feel your heart beating steady against my breast
Can you feel mine own pounding feircely?
You scrape gentle fingers through my hair, trembling
As I gaze into your eyes, the hazel more green in this light,
A plethora of emotion flickers across them.
Yearning, love, hate, regret, sorrow...
Each pauses, a heartbeat, lingers, and moves on
One last word, softly spoken, and the lights are suddenly bright
The curtain falls
The director yells "Cut! That's a wrap, people!"
The sound of applause is deafing, though it is a wonder I can hear
Anything at all
You turn away amid smiles, laughter, shaking of hands
I can still feel your lips against my own
Still taste the soft wetness of your tongue
Feel the beat of your heart against my own
My body had been reacting to your ministrations, and now it is time
Time to pull away from these...feelings...and bottle them up once more
For a split second I see your face behind my lids
You move back to me, interrupting my reverie to praise my preformance
To praise my preformance and to wish me well with a pat on my shoulder
A slight squeeze before you turn away
You played your part well, oh so well, as I smile and return the thought
Too well, I think, as I turn to leave before the tears threaten to fall
Oh, yes, your talents left me feeling weak, breathless, bruised and broken
And that, love, is called acting...