I Don't Dance


Don’t dance me to the end of love. No, dance me back to where I first felt alive. Dance me home, whether home is a person, place, or the briefest of moments void of trembling or bloodshot eyes. Dance me out to the clearer air, dance me back to when I didn’t dread my own mind.

Spin me into the wall so I can’t see straight, you know there’s too much truth I’d kill to find. Let me learn the hard way, feet bleeding from standing tiptoe all this time. You can swallow your sweet nothings, and hold tight to your pretty necklace, it’s nothing to me now but a glittering noose. Close your thoughtless eyes, already half-lidded with a desire I won’t choose.

So, dance me back to innocence, dance me behind the curtain that fell before the actors even showed. I wish I could unlearn the tricks that make you fold, and remember what the sunset looks like when I want it to rise again tomorrow. Dance me to the beginning of love, because I’ve been taught the moves already…and I no longer want to know.

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