He looks at me through sleepy eyes:
I look back sheepishly.
He smiles and asks me to dance--
he leads me around like a rag doll,
makes me feel dainty and new.
I want to affect him like he affects me,
so I give him fiery glances
and try to dance like the beauty
he thinks I should be,
but I end up feeling silly.
This role I play
Is not myself--
I grow coy
and walk away.
that's really sad. the poem is beautiful but the meaning scarring. Dance that's a metaphor which is great. don't try and affect someone feel what you feel and hold on to that emotion no matter what happens no one can ever take that feeling away from you the way you feel when you feel wanted and wonderful for who you are. don't pretend just "be" . Also, the more i read your stuff the more i respect your artistic views and expression truly becoming a fan
I liked this a lot. You took a fleeting moment and captured a whole spectrum of emotions . It took me back to high school days, but i think the feeeling must have been the same even in the days of barn Dances, minuets, and palatial balls. Thanks, Silver