She taught me how to dance
Not how to properly do the tango
How to be light, that stepping backwards occasionally is for the sake of going forwards and in all different directions
The possibilities could whirl you around incoherently, and all you could do was laugh
Where to put my hands so they did no lay idly at my sides
To guide as a man, yet move together as a lover--to realize that there are plenty of dances to do alone, and only so many to complete with another
Specific, heart-wrenching, dances that are not meant for a sole partner
Where to rest my head if the world looked too long--lowering my eyes did not make me any less stronger than I knew I was
Resting on her did not make me any less stronger than I knew I was, but it did make the days softer, and the harsh reality a curtain cannot hide less smothering
Where to lead and where to follow--
Sometimes, only I could see behind her and at other times, it was she that checked over the tops of my shoulders
I traveled as far as ears to her hips, and she would pull me ever closer with every second that followed, which made it terribly difficult to be apart from her-- but I knew that I was...
The last I held her was months ago, and although at first I had groaned at the idea of dancing in the dark with our chests pressed, her voice ringing, I wanted nothing more than to cling to
The way she smelled, the way she wasn't tall enough to grip my shoulders, so I, being in love with her and unable to resist, bend beyond my comfort to accommodate her shortcomings as she kissed my cheek on her tip-toes
Yes--this is the moment I repeat in the darkness of my mind, this is the memory I rewind and rewind until it almost brings tears to my eyes (she can never know that; it would break her heart that she is the only one who could ever make me cry) and I yearn for her, the girl of my dreams, the love of my life
I know she is waiting for the sunrise and tide to coincide, and when it does, I hope she will teach me how to swing in cut time
YOU ARE READING
Portraits
PoetryThis is mainly for personal reasons, I guess. I was told that when I explain my thoughts they might make more sense to me. △ "I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right." - Markus Zusak, "The Book Thief"
