Your chin tilts as your body sinks into itself. Your arms fall to your sides as your knees bend and your chest lifts. You face me with your open palms and your taut back and your turned out knees. My voice raises your arms above your head. My touch opens your legs. One knee straightens as the other bends. I am inside you. Your body balances under me and over me. I push you. You turn into me.
An extended breath. I am behind you. Your back bends, and I am holding your waist, tracing your arm’s extension. Your breath catches as I lift you. You will not move away from me. You cannot. Lightly, harshly, sensually: your body pulses against me.
A painting exists by the colors on the canvas. You exist by the lilt of me.
Filed under: Dance, Poetry Tagged: | Ballet, Fiction, Love, Poetry, romance
