You lower your hands to the side

of you hips

and your lips pucker

as you throw me a sideway glance.

You walk with a swagger

that is gracefully subtle

and yet deliberate.

Time stops as you hammer the

floor with your feet,

my heart feverishly beats

as the dance reaches a crescendo.

You pierce me with your eyes,

which is why

I widen our distance.

You must have confused

me with some other girl.

This is not my first time on the dance floor.

While it may seem like

you are dancing for me,

it’s correct to assume that

you dance best on your own.

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