To go to the first set, to be at the first game,
Under bright lights, surrounded by roaring crowds.
To step off in perfect time, to the first clack of the season, in a swarm of pink, purple, and black.
To be covered in a mask of makeup, so intoxicating, suffocating, and thrilling, all at the same time.
To feel the sound of one foot after another, sliding softly across a ground so cold it feels wet.
To proudly lift your chin, to lift it so high, a hand in the shape of an L can fit perfectly in the nook between chin and collar.
To blanch, slightly, at the sight of hundreds of watching, judging eyes; to smile broadly because of them.
To count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, in an unnatural and uncomfortable position.
To swim fluidly through the air, as if the world is yours, and you are the worlds.
To blink, for just a second, and to open your eyes to the sight of three sets of hands closing into firm and final fists, as silence awaits you, and then, moments later, thundering applause.
To be happily stuck in that first, and final, moment, for as long as it will take you to forget the unforgettable way it took your breath away.
YOU ARE READING
Life As I See It
PoetryI don't know much about life, I'm pretty young and very confused, So I don't have any answers To the questions you no doubt have; I don't know anyone who does. I'm only writing to feel, And only writing because I feel. So read if you feel too, Becau...
