While she dances,
her feet a chiaroscuro
of staccato and glissade
she spirals
into last year’s
arms – his eyes brilliant
blues and greens.
Back to a time
when she knew
she was loved.
Instinct comes and goes,
but as she pirouettes
the world is a prettier place;
a place where dreams
might come to pass
after all.
Is said and done,
dancing,
she dances
dancing
is his lips
on her throat
just below
her ear
listening.
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