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Description
The dance begins.

We’re cautious. It feels as if everyone’s eyes are upon us, but nobody is watching. Nobody save the jealous ex-lovers, but they are the ones we care least about.

Keeping a distance between us is difficult, but we do it for the sake of those lovers. Carefully winding our way around each other without ever touching.

Eventually our hands do graze, bumping into each other as we become more enraptured. Nothing could be more powerful than the feeling of your hand on mine.

The dance quickens.

All thoughts of our previous cautions are pushed to the wind as the memory of the moment our hands touched engulfs everything else. There is no use pretending.

The passion within is allowed to burst forth. Our bodies entwine, fusing in love, something only the most fortunate will ever truly experience in life. All eyes are on us.

As we fall into our steps, we realize now it is only the routine of the dance we are following. Passion burns out, the excitement of that first touch forgotten.

The dance slows.

Bodies move against each other, slower to match the new beat. As the heat begins to leave, we become aware of what lies ahead, of the changes we will have to face.

Last whispers of reassurance to each other as the dance floor clears. One by one, each couple leaves, until we are alone, silently swaying, soaking it in.

The music stops, but we still stand there, moving. Reminiscing on the dance, the touch, the memory that we had just shared, not wanting it to be over.

The dance ends.

I move away from you, across the floor, leaving you behind with only a glance over my shoulder. Our silent promises, our spoken promises, are lost.

Description
The dance begins.

We’re cautious. It feels as if everyone’s eyes are upon us, but nobody is watching. Nobody save the jealous ex-lovers, but they are the ones we care least about.

Keeping a distance between us is difficult, but we do it for the sake of those lovers. Carefully winding our way around each other without ever touching.

Eventually our hands do graze, bumping into each other as we become more enraptured. Nothing could be more powerful than the feeling of your hand on mine.

The dance quickens.

All thoughts of our previous cautions are pushed to the wind as the memory of the moment our hands touched engulfs everything else. There is no use pretending.

The passion within is allowed to burst forth. Our bodies entwine, fusing in love, something only the most fortunate will ever truly experience in life. All eyes are on us.

As we fall into our steps, we realize now it is only the routine of the dance we are following. Passion burns out, the excitement of that first touch forgotten.

The dance slows.

Bodies move against each other, slower to match the new beat. As the heat begins to leave, we become aware of what lies ahead, of the changes we will have to face.

Last whispers of reassurance to each other as the dance floor clears. One by one, each couple leaves, until we are alone, silently swaying, soaking it in.

The music stops, but we still stand there, moving. Reminiscing on the dance, the touch, the memory that we had just shared, not wanting it to be over.

The dance ends.

I move away from you, across the floor, leaving you behind with only a glance over my shoulder. Our silent promises, our spoken promises, are lost.