Slow Dance

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It makes me think of slow dancing.

Taking his hand when he asks for mine…acutely aware of the distance that’s closing between my heart and his…the fear of being drawn into the mystery of the unknown, torn between the happiness of the moment, and the fear of uncertainty thereafter.

My lips would quiver with words left unspoken, for they would taint the moment of otherwise pristine perfection. So instead, I’ll just breathe the words in sharply back, back into my terrified heart, for I will not have the courage to say them out loud.

Loud enough to reassure my heart. “You’ll be ok, you’ll be alright…it will all be ok.”

So instead, I’ll just lean in closer, and will have to still my heart with the promise of his soul.

…That effervescent essence from that deep,special place which I believe with all my heart that is only mine.

And then, maybe I can finally say…farewell.

To unspoken broken promises…to houses on hills built from cotton candy hopes…to hot tears that flow in lieu of words, to perennial aches from riddles that we won’t ever have answers to.

—-

Slow dances may never be simply what they are anymore.

I relish these times of the day when I can have the house all to myself to work…and dream.

For tonight, I’m feeling hopeful…. I first heard this song on television, but I didn’t really appreciate the finesse of the performers at the time. After I took away the distractions, I was left with this beautiful, soulful song.

Sam Smith might have done the original version, but Charice’s version is what stirs me more.

Ok, now I feel infinitely better. The answers, whatever they may be, will come someday.

~ S.

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