The Tango We Stumble

It makes me laugh, this tango we somehow perfect amidst the stumbles. Each move is more complicated than the one before, less so for our feet than our eyes. You push away and I draw near, laughing as we fall. I have to know if you’re up to your old tricks, intriguing me with each breath. The lines have been drawn and we keep to our own sides, the roses still tight between our lips. Oh, lead on, my mystery man, dip me into the water if I bend enough, flexible with a faint smile as I impossibly extend myself over the edge of the dance floor. My hair brushes along the floor and my cheeks color with the inversion, but even more the nearness of your essence. You pull me upright again, gentle and strong, while something inside is satisfied at last.

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