The serpentine rhythm of the tango begins
And you extend the invitation.
I give you my hand and
You quickly withdraw yours.
Your fingers curve across my back,
Dig in for a firmer grip
And my response is fear.
I smell your sweat
Like damp fishes
Living in dark curling rivers
Along the sides of your face,
On the nape,
Streambeds traveling your forehead,
Collecting in the notch of your chest.
Of its own accord, my face
Lays down in the crook of your neck.
But our bodies do not touch.
I lift my head;
You don’t smile but meet my eyes
With the barest widening of the whites.
For once, I don’t look away.
My hand encircles your neck.
You shift my weight, our legs intermingle.
No good can come of this.
Source: How To Dance Without Touching
(image used with permission from http://www.morguefile.com)