you hate classy, even though your words flow smoother than the length of a prom dress. she twirls and spins, unknowing in her small talk i am more enthralled than with midnight conference calls. she steps back, i step forward – how you tease me with the key to your heart! it’s the key to everyone’s heart really.
open, close, open, close, open, close – i see metaphors in every inch of your face, but when tasked to write your literary essay, __________. I wish i could fill in your name.
i don’t like the song the DJ’s playing; too many pauses. but you’re still dancing and jumping and screaming – you yell and call me over. i tried, i really tried, but i can’t dance without music. i tried to hum a tune, but it’s too quiet and you can’t hear me over the crowd.
by the end of the night i’m plastered to the wall, drunk on fantasies, maybes, might be, you and me. my vision is blurry and my hands are shaking – i’m not heading home tonight. eventually, perhaps. i stagger to the corner, away from prying eyes, that i might expel my feelings to listening ears. i should’ve held back, i think to myself. it’s a little bit much for a single night.
you’re still dancing.