How is it possible that a man can appear so lithe? His feet are barely touching the ground. Could he be floating? Maybe I am distracted by the tights he wears but I can’t be blamed they leave nothing to the imagination. Everything is outlined like he is art on display and trust me I’ll admire the masterpiece because that is what it is.
It’s the way he bends and twists I wonder what else he can do with those skills. Hush down these thoughts brain, you’re sending the wrong signals to the faulty parts. We have an agenda and we must accomplish it so please for all deities to hear and calm my wandering thoughts. I need to reign in this waywardness.
The confidence he exudes can start a storm, and I can feel the cyclone enveloping me in his presence. Raging waters would not sweep him away with the grace he carries as he moves across the stage. I have lost sense of the melody he is swaying to. Was that a perfect twirl? Could he be any more an enigma, God’s precious gift to womankind?
Loud applause and cheers bring me back to reality, the show is over. He takes a bow and exits amid the cacophony rising from the guests. The crowd starts dispersing to meet their loved ones and give them their flowers—critics of the art hurdle into a corner to discuss their observations. My eyes roam the corridors, where could he be?
If all the ‘sorry and excuse me’ I whispered butting into people to make way to where he could be were compiled, they’d fill every single day of the calendar and leave room for some more. He is the reason why I came and crushing into his arms was homely.
“Did you enjoy the show mi Corazon?”
‘More than I’d admit my love.’
If the curtains closed at this moment then I wouldn’t care because this was enough for me. Altogether the applause would fade into the background because my ballet dancer choreographed a piece for me. A heartfelt tribute to the love we share, I should pick up my tutu again join him and bless your eyes with our synchrony.
‘Dance for me again my love.’
“Every piece is my ode to you mi Corazon.”
Apollo, he is the one. He dances with me in the kitchen.
© Twisted Empress