on dancing and its dangers

we keep dancing to a music I have danced to before. to paraphrase Jack Kerouac, we dance, dance, dance like roman candles across the night. but this familiarity is not comforting. on the contrary, I am wary of this because I am not a good dancer and, more importantly, the last time I danced to this music, I ended up dancing alone. I wish my previous experience has made me knowledgeable, or at least to some extent ready, but I continue to be, and I still am, confused. I am never, nor do I claim to be, a good dancer.

dancing has never been my strong suit.

the music, this music we're dancing to consumes me, draws me in, like a moth to a flame... keeps me in, like a drug to its junkie. I am aware of the dangers of dancing to this music that I've danced to before but the thrill matched with a certain kind of comfort I only feel when dancing with you makes me not want to stop. but when the music fades, I am faced with the reality that what I considered to be the most intense experience I have ever done in my life is just a spur-of-the-moment, adrenaline-fueled activity for you.

you are my life's greatest heartbreak because you broke break my heart by not doing anything. by stopping when all I ever wanted to do was keep on dancing... albeit blindly.