152/365: Performative Rapture

She was adept at chewing the scenery,
the kind of person who'd make you feel famous
before she turned to pour herself over her next shine,
like we all deserved it,
this performative rapture
dressed up as generosity
rather than a meatless game,
her white hum.
Still, I loved her.
Things were as they were.
Our eyes kept her steady. 


I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.