I was a shy child,
who fantasised about finding her voice,
finding her way into the centre of attention,
owning the gasps and stares of everyone around her.
I was addicted to the awe,
just from seeing others,
dashing across the stage, the height of the high in their veins,
my own veins, envious and starved,
and it was so hard to tear myself from the tapping, tumultuous tempo that had called to me for so long.
I am a party of paraphilias,
the arresting autagonistophiliac,
an ingenue, in search of her spotlight,
and a sophisticated spouse to share her shine with.
Watch me dance, darling,
hear my shower show from down the street,
let me sing in the rain,
and never reign it in,
for there is a song in my heart,
and rhythm in my ribs,
spreading like a sweet cancer,
to my soul.
