Dance With Me?

I looked out the window and they were dancing…
Oblivious to my gaze, they let themselves get swept away by the heat of the moment and I…
I watched… and my body ached for something only my heart remembers.
To dance.
With myself…
With the music...
With the rhythm…

To dance with him…
Was to erase all the world but for the music and the dance floor…
Just us… me and him… and the music.

We'd gently get close at first.
I'd feel his body and he'd feel mine…
We'd learn each others movements and adapt them to our own… and then the more daring steps would begin.
I recall his tight grip…
The strength of his arm around my waist…
One look into the hunger in his eyes and I dared to be move, to take defying steps…
To let him turn me, twist me, dip me and sway me around the dance floor as if it were all ours and no one else's.
The sweet scent of his sweaty neck, the heat that his breath burned upon my own…
His hands were liquid volcano each time he touched my bare skin and I felt his heart racing each time I beckoned him closer…
Closer…
As if our bodies couldn't reach close enough.
Dancing is the vertical expression of a horizontal desire…
We'd lock eyes and we'd hold each other, as being in each other's arms was our sole purpose for living.
Each time I pulled away, it was if my heart was being torn from my chest…
Then he’d pull me back as if he’d make love to me right there on the dance floor.
My every muscle and nerve answered to his touch, to his demand.
Slaves to the music…
Fast and intense…
Slow and torturous…
And when the music stopped…
I’d hang on to him for as long as I could, I'd gasped for air and know that I was ruined for life.

Oh to dance with him…
To feel alive.
Like a woman…
With taboo's and no restrictions.
The dance floor is my chosen prison.
My church…
the place where I heal my hurts…
Where I feel whole.

Anyone who dances will tell you… the music ends too soon.
Just when you're enjoying it the most, just as you've gotten the hang of it; the music stops and it's over.
You can start over, switch partners and wait for the next song but it will never be the same dance you began with.
Because they're all different… unique…
Each dance holds its own steps, its own story, its own memory.

They danced as if no one were watching; I suspect that even if they knew that I was… they wouldn't have cared.
Closing my eyes, I danced with him along with them on the pavement.
We moved in close, danced… and smiled at each other.
All was forgiven, words ceased to have importance.
All that mattered was that he dances with me and I danced with him.
I miss him sometimes.

Tragedy isn't when the music comes to an end…
It's when the music ends and you realized that lost the opportunity to dance.
It's the regret no one should have.

To dance,
To speak your soul’s language with your body.
To gesticulate your desires with each movement.
To Trust.
To be trusted.
And to know that whatever happens, all that matters is that you enjoy yourself.

Dance.
Every chance you get…
With whomever destiny picks as your partner…
As if no one were looking…
Because life is short and you never know if you'll get a chance to dance.