Sunday, May 16, 2010

a dance buried in music long before written


May 16, 2010

There are things that even I know I cannot write about. There are feelings that even I should not express as it will break trusts and decimate confidences and I fight every click of the keyboard as I type and delete about a night dancing with a partner that even I couldn't have expected. But I have no will power.

How can I possibly be so stupid to let these doors open again and these emotions echo through me with the same patterned rhythm of our bodies as they undulated to music. The heaving, the breathing, the unexpected invitation that I should not have answered as you grasped my curving waist and pulled me towards you again. Because in your enchanting intoxication, it was only lustful steps and this is just a ballet. Fueled by hungry breath, this fire has only my heart to incinerate. Yet there is therapy in the physical release of exertion and I smile again biting my sweet mouth, knowing that my thighs ache from a previously undanced tango. 

If only the memory of your body pressed against mine could be erased long enough to accomplish basic tasks and I wouldn't be compelled to transcribe the evening in my not so private diary. Because I'm not sure if or when you will call again, although history has proven that it is a likelihood. I'm only getting good at not reaching towards you and understanding that in this instance, I cannot guide this dance.

So until you again lead me not so gently onto the dance floor, I will write.

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