When He Would FrolicHe was dancing. He was gliding around chairs and strangers, around tables and curtains, catered to the reaction of surprise and curiosity; he was laughing, unaware of its maniacal tone or, as before, of its effect. His grin was an open urgency to the spirit and language of his passion, and it bled warmth; and it spoke twirls and dives; and it bellowed curves and maneuvers from arm to arm, locked together; and between them, hands that caressed each finger, tips that sliced at air. He should have been breathless; he should have been tired and spent, but he was dancing, and he was laughing; and he refused to stop. He had circled each table four times, each chair eight times, and between each curtain enough times to recall its lavender embrace with his eyes clutched and his ears alert.He was dancing until he opened his eyes and found that everyone had left.
layer by layer.my fingers belong on your hip bones, holding you against me until the end of time. i need to feel your lips on my forehead and my heart in your grasp. i need to feel your eyelashes giving my cheeks tiny butterfly kisses. i need to feel your ribcage fighting it's way to mine. i need to feel. and that's what you do to me. maybe that's why i was scared of you from the very beginning. you actually made me feel something.-the air is numbingly cold, freezing its way into our veins as we dance our way over the shingles. i was frightened to climb my way up, but now that i've reached the very top i couldn't be more happy. we can see the rest of the rooftops, but all that matters is our own. you slowly lead me with your hands on my waist, mine wrapped tightly around the back of your neck. you can hold me up. you can save me if i need to be. and i'll try to do the same for you.-jars full of glitter, your worst enemy. you always said it would never go away. it just multiplies every time