Dancing A Few Dances

Jul 9, 2017

1/30 — 061817

My feet are tired not from walking but from dancing last night. I danced a few dances to songs I don't know the lyrics to. I danced a few dances in a place I haven't been to and I can see people looking at me like I was a rare species moving towards somewhere. I was not going anywhere, I was just dancing towards something, somewhere. Somehow, I can see people talking and I try to take a glimpse, a gaze at a boy who has taken half of my heart.

No one knows I was looking. No one knows I was looking at how his hair falls on his face and how his eyes look beautiful while staring at nothing. No one knows I was watching how his fingers tap in tune to the beat of an old song. No one knows who I was looking at and it's strange to think that strangers are looking.

In my head I try to count the girls he kissed in front of me and my fingers could represent each girl whose names I did not bother to know. This boy who has taken half of my heart gave me back a halved half of my heart and I take it back with palms wide open. The halved half of my heart is now back to where it should be. This boy put it back where he got it from and it still fits perfectly, only now he has a quarter of my whole heart. And it is fine.

I take a break. I sit down next to a boy whose locks were locked and I touched it out of curiosity. It must have felt weird for him and so I said I was sorry if it ever made him uncomfortable. He said it was okay. I continued to pay no attention to any of the people surrounding me as I get up and fill my cup with vodka and orange juice. Vodka sometimes tastes a bit too strong, a bit to heavy that sometimes it suckerpunches into my gut. Balancing bitterness with sweetness is an expertise embraced, so I add a bit more of orange juice.

So I took another sip and danced another dance.

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