You used to love to dance. You were the happiest when my arms were around your waist and your head was cradled against my shoulders. The spotlight shone on us, in a world where only you and me existed, we were one. We can dance all night. Even when war broke out outside the theatre, leaving the stage littered with scorched debris, we continued dancing as the flames burnt.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

"Eyes on me, eyes on me," You whispered in my ears and cupped my face, turning my face towards you with the pair of soothing eyes filled with comfort, telling me that everything would be alright and I would believe so. And I love the way you looked at me, as if I was your favourite in the whole world.

Then, at one point, my mask was torn off from my skin.

I screamed, I shouted and I yelled. Hysterically like a mad woman.

I felt your hands let go but I didn't care because I was in pain.

Until I saw fear in your eyes like I had never seen before. The red wounds on your arms were fresh, accompanied by the warm tears that ran across them. I traced my fingers along the scars on the rest of your shaking body and suddenly, you were gasping for air. I quickly released my grip on your throat upon the realisation that it was me who set the world on fire.

This time, you never told me that everything would be alright.

Somewhere along the way, I became deaf and you became a mute. Now, it's the opposite.

You didn't want to listen even if it's just the sound of my breathings which was the only thing left that I could give to you.

So, I played the clown and acted like a fool like a willing puppet in your hands but you only continued to run away from me. the grand performing stage now belonged to me but to you, it's just a collapsing circus. Nobody laughed and that's where I realised I was wrong.

You didn't hate me. You sympathised me.

No hate, no love.

Then the curtain began to close and you turned away from me. Cheers erupted from the crowd and the audiences were applauding. You continued to walk and walk, down the red carpet without looking back. And I only watched in silence as my eyes trailed your steps away from me. Through the slit of the closing curtain, I caught a glimpse of you... and her. 

It was the best ending, they said.

I no longer deserved a place in your heart.

When the curtain was drawn again, it was all quiet. The audiences were gone, my outfit was changed and the lightings and props were removed. It was pitch black. I stood on the stage that seemed emptier than before. From afar, among the sea of people, my eyes still found yours.

You stopped. You were still as beautiful.

And then you smiled back at me with the bliss that I could never have given you.

The camera closed in. I inhaled deeply and held in my regretful tears, painting the best smile on my face.

The show was ending.

It was my last performance for you.

My curtain call.