• Time too short

    As I anxiously scrambled into the studio, I hurried to the back. I dropped my belongings in the corner gracefully as I greeted the folks I knew in the room. I signed the little attendance sheet and began to survey the room. Of course my eyes landed on you, such a beautiful being.

    For that moment, I was fully captivated by your essence. But that’s not what I was there for! I quickly shifted my gaze and redirected my focus to the choreography I need to learn. I’d never danced before. Well, that was a lie, I performed in a quite a few dance performances throughout elementary school. I’m not sure why I stopped. Something deeply traumatizing probably occurred; but, I can’t remember and there’s probably a good reason why.

    Throughout rehearsal, the other dancers (primarily women with lusty eyes) paid keen attention to me. Everyone stumbling over themselves to get a chance to teach me bits and pieces of the dance. At the end of rehearsal a few of us stayed behind, after you led us through some decompressing exercises we all sat in the gym and chatted. Once you opened your mouth and began to speak so confidently, so passionately, so sweetly, the damage had been done. My libra sun and rising, my mischievous Venusian ways took control. I was in love. Deeply enamored but your spirit, not to mention the gorgeous vessel she inhabited. I couldn’t wait til the next rehearsal so that I could see you again.

    At work the next day, I ran through the choreo a million times. Replaying the song over and over, marking the moves because I was determined to have my shit together by practice that night.

    On the train ride from work, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was equally as excited to dance as I was to share the same space as you. Once we got to practice, the sparks were flying. I kept forgetting what I was there for, every moment with you felt like we were the only people existing in the world. I wished these moments would never end, that I wouldn’t have to go back to my apartment without you. That you wouldn’t have to disappear off into the night the way you did at the end of rehearsal the night before. I didn’t quite know you, but I felt you, I saw you. The connection was so deep so quick I was nervous to touch you. I thought to myself, “If the chemistry is this electric before we’ve physically connected, who knows what’ll happen if I get my hands on you. I might explode.”

    The last time you fell into my arms, I could’ve held you forever. For that week, everytime I saw you, you had that heavy ass book bag that was half of both our sizes. As soon as you were within my proximity, I had the urge to lift that weight off your shoulders. When I did this, you’d tell me “he doesn’t like when you do that” and I’d say “I don’t give a fuck” because I didn’t. Any moment I got to spend with you, I needed you to know that in that moment, you, we, were the only thing that mattered.

    The first time I cried in front of you, it was silent. You walked over to the corner I was in and held my head close to your bosom. You told me that holding me felt like holding your little sister. I know what you meant. You felt a deep love, a deep care for me, a strange familiarity that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. I felt it too. Every moment spent with you was a special one. I craved your presence from the moment you left. When he’d come to pick you up, I’d always say “You know you don’t have to go.” And although you never wanted to leave, you’d always go. Reluctantly. On a particular night, I guess you could tell how concerned I was about your distance from me. You looked me in my soul and said “Let me go”. I let out a sigh. The sigh was one of frustration with your preoccupation to play the role that kept taking you away from me. The sigh was also one of relief, because in your voice there was a calm reassurance. As if you were saying “You know I can’t go anywhere because I live in your heart” without using your words like you often did.

    The last night we spent together, neither of us slept. As if to savor every moment before our impending separation. I sobbed before I left. I couldn’t bear to part from the best part of myself. The thought of being away from you again brought me an inexplicably deep sorrow. You told me we’d be back in weeks, months, maybe years. A year without you was something I couldn’t fathom. As I left, you asked me to stay. With tears in my heart, I knew now you had to let me go. If it’s love (and it’s always been love since the first moment I laid eyes on you) we’ll be back. It’s been almost two months now, and a day doesn’t go by without you crossing my mind. I pray for you incessantly as I patiently await the day you’ll come back to me. I know we’ll be back.


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