displays of the lowermost amusement

in the proper hour, the curtains are drawn back.
a rich, illuminated stage replaces
the previously blank theater curtains.
light centers upon the soft-faced actress
as she leisurely makes way to front and center stage.
(a soft applaud makes no hesitation, then soon diminishes)
the spotlight creates a luminous circle
around her experienced formation,
contriving a sparkle in her eye.
(the other is fashionably hidden by pinned-over, copper-red bangs)
inwardly presenting displays of the lowermost amusement,
she shies a coy gesture (rather inconspicuously, i have to say),
while still acting cordially for her attentive audience.
not one soul detects the morosity,
instead, all attention rests upon her given recital.
iterating her well-rehearsed lines,
she compiles emotion and intimacy into her performance.
i guess you could (casually) say
that the only emotion excluded is the one she truly experiences,
while those employed are fraudulent in nature.
her concealed ire ferments in her chest,
yet remains under discreet control by her act.
in the time which orders her exhibition complete,
a dozen rounds of cheers, applause, laughter and joy
are set forth through the auditorium, sounding out abroad.
she forges a copy of the smile she used to have
and sweetly blows a kiss to the patrons;
momentarily applying a lady-like curtsy to her close.
roses then are tossed upon the stage;
she lifts one as to claim it her own.
the fair-skinned actress reverts backstage
ambling behind the surreptitious curtains
as they come to a draw.
the well-loved performer fashions a linear path
toward her reclusive dressing room.
set in front of her mirror's reversed, mimicking face,
she emits heartfelt tears as her
mascara courses down her high cheeks.
she knows she can't act away her sadness when alone;
she wallows in her unmentioned disheartenment.
she molts the actress and blooms the girl,
whom she fears to call herself.