pale blue coat hangs on body frame.  only you can pull that off so naturally, admires the photographer, and everyone readily agrees.  (is that twitch because you want to be him, face hidden behind camera lens?  i wonder.)  long sleeves dangle idly, brushing against thin air to the rhythm of every shift and turn.  shoulder padding makes them look broader than they really are, a suit of armor lending cripples a knight’s image.  not that you are a cripple.

who are you?

the muscles in your face contort in accordance to instructions – of the photographer, of the stylist, of the manager.  invisible strings attach you to them, a puppet moving to his puppeteer’s will.  (they call those strings a contract.  did you not lord over your own self before that you had to sign it?  i wonder.)  smirk a little more, no not too much, just a degree higher; you comply.

what are you thinking?

in this room, everyone’s eyes are shades of dark brown bordering on black.  (except the redhead bestowed the title of your girlfriend – hers are emerald and remind me of a witch.  did you fall in love with those eyes once?  i wonder.)  but your murky orbs are more opaque than black can ever be.  emitting an intensity no one could rival, can rival, will rival.  people obsess over the depths in the shallow feelings they make you express, pulled as a magnet is to an opposite pole, or objects towards a vacuum.

have you cried before?

alas, those slender fingers betray you.  steepled together.  fingertips dance light tunes across knuckles, barely detectable impatience in those lively waltz steps.  it doesn’t show to the relief of your stylist, the jagged nail edges a result of your bad habit.  (and i am glad you haven’t outgrown it.  is that selfish? i wonder.)  because  in the end we have to let go, yet you aren’t.  a curious thing, your fingers, as everyone remarks.  calloused undersides of fingers do not match the smoothness you are noted for; they don’t know how long you practiced, day in, day out, don’t understand that it’s all you are proud of now.

do you remember who you are?