Dance of Infatuation

March 6, 2008
She dances in the midst of the crowd on the floor,
Elusive, yet ever drawing me in, wanting more.
Her eyes are aflame with frevor, her soul's on fire,
As if it is dire that i fulfill her secret desires.
The music is fast paced and controls her like a puppet,
But yet it seems to be her that's giving life to it.
The dancer's hips move, rotating, gyrating, circulating,
I try to resist going over, but my self control is breaking.
She's coming closer, dancing around those in her way,
Is she coming towards me? What should I say?
Just as the dancer she is, she begins to lead,
She sways over and asks, "Am I the only you can see?"
I take her hand and follow her,
If this is even happening, I cannot be for sure.
She carries me like a wave against her body,
She is feelings of lust, embodied.
Time loses its sense of presence,
Our figures dancing in coexistence.
We become closer and closer, our lips barely touching,
With every passing moment, my heart starts accelerating.
AS with all things, the song msut end, and thus the dance,
Though we quit, my soul's blazing with benevolence.
But what is to become of our Flamenco?
Our Flamenco Diablo.

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