The moon and our hands

I saw the way your hair moved when you glided across the dancefloor.

Your silhouette covered the lights that shined in my eyes.

So I slithered my way to the back.

I move because I feel the rhythm beat through my veins just as easily as the blood does.

I was in love with the song until I met you.

I watched you out of the corner of my eye watching me.

I knew you loved the music as much as I loved tapping my feet.

I knew you loved me too.

The way our eyes met made me so uncomfortable, I could only imagine how it made you feel.

Please don't leave, because that was my next move.

As you analyzed the way my right foot married my left and the kick snare being my priest, I noticed the innocence in your soul.

I could see how little you did to upset the universe, and how much damage you wanted to avoid.

As I glided over to the other side of the room, your face always seemed to be in the horizon of my sight.

I liked it and you knew I did.

Maybe it was time our sanity met and our hands could become one.

But that wasn't what needed to be done.

Because I've watched the moon every night, it always changes its shape.

Painted frowns become broken smiles, but it can always go the other way.

Maybe one day I'll lift up my sleeve to show you my scars, and you'll do the same, but till then do me a favor and keep dancing...

The way I danced for you.