(or First Dance)
The first slow song was the sweetest.
And so was thought that I had to tell you where to hold me.
Held awkwardly by your shoulders and my hips,
We swayed to Ed Sheeran reminiscing about a perfect girl.
Instead of dancing in awkward silence,
I pointed to all of the couple's dancing along side of us and told you how sweet it is how people let down their walls to allow someone special to them to come close.
When all of the other dancing feet is just background music to their embrace.
Eyes capturing faces and hands grasping lovers. All of those familiar faces I knew holding each other up as if their legs weren't enough to keep them standing.
So,
When the next slow dance crept to a slight crescendo,
I stepped a little closer, holding the back of your neck.
I wish that we could have shared that last dance together.
YOU ARE READING
Fragmentation
PoetryFragmentation// the process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× It's hard for me to complete my poems. And I finally decided to share some of my poetry with strangers. These...
