"You should be looking right here," her dance instructor said, pointing to the space of his heart.
They kept dancing. Lest she stare transfixed on that one spot on his shirt, he mentioned: "You don't need to analyze the thread count."
She relaxed her gaze that was likely burning a hole through his chest, and thought about her inherent lack of seductive presence.
"Your gaze should be on me in soft focus, as if you are enrapt in this one moment, as if my leading you is the only thing that exists right now, you are stuck in this moment of ecstasy."
She looked up at him and her fit of giggles leaked into laughter.
"And even if you really don't feel all that, just fake it," he said.
She was never good at faking it.
Subscribe
Posts
Comments
About Me
- Ali
- Fascinated by the movement of desire through Myth, literature, lyrics, religions, history, and shared experience -- and loving any good love story that arrests the heart and warrants a good sized cry towel -- I am a hopeless romantic at heart. But also a heady academic with a penchant for the feminine divine, who is rooted in a darling body wrought with emotions and feelings and perceptions of the vast and interpersonal relationships of the world, and effervescently intrigued by the dissolution of the fuzzy boundaries of self and other. More about me here: www.auspiciousprojects.com and twitterpated here: @manifestcookies
No comments:
Post a Comment