I can explain (revised)

It’s dark, quiet,
dusty warm
amid the ropes and curtains.
My bare feet are soothed
by the dirty boards beneath them.

Their voices echo
from the bright lights
filling the cavernous space before me
with clichés
and the old velvet surrounds me
holds me upright
as my vision blurs.

It is still, again
and I close my eyes against the dark, feeling
the shifting of your weight
on the boards beside me
through the bottoms of my toes.

I clear my throat
of stage-dust
and unspoken words.
My chest clenches
and my breath catches in a way
that has nothing to do
with the backstage heat
…and everything to do
with impending explanation.

“I know it; I know it all.
I won’t presume…
that is,
you should know
I’m grateful.

I mean,
what I’m trying to say
is that your laughter
brought back my hope for someday
and I know
you’ll never understand
how much this means
or why my lips tremble
during curtain call
…but I’m grateful.”

Your fingers extend,
brush past my arm:
the only explanation
I’m likely to get.