(no subject)
We dance in the dark night making circles in the sand with our steps. I like the way it makes a swish, swish sound that seems so distant like memories or innocence or emotion. The swish, swish reminds me that I am dancing with you. The reminder reminds me that I love you and the way you dance in the sand. Sandstorm love, the kind that comes only once in awhile; the kind that burns your eyes if you aren’t careful. You make each movement so carefully; like the dance is what’s keeping you from being swept away in the wind, like the way the sand is swept away under the swish, swish of your feet. Our feet move in unison, like the ballerinas I used to watch and wish I could be. Being here with you in the sand makes me think that life is better than I thought once. Once in awhile, I think that this is forever. At night, my dreams foreshadowing the storms-not the sandstorms that we love, but the rainstorms that make everything soggy with ambiguity-wake me with a start, and I wonder what it means. But I know the meaning; I know that dancing in the dark night in the sand is just like this love. You are my lover in my mind until the rain. But you like the rain, because you have an excuse to let me drown in my own bogus sentiment. It seems that if we dance till the first light, the passion is swish, swish, swept away. Maybe it’s because the night makes lovers remember or that darkness lets you imagine what I used to be. When I awake, remind me to remind everyone else that love only exists in moonlight, and that seeing everything makes us forget who we loved.