My heart; I let it sway from one end of the continuum to the
other. I let it dance to the frail tunes of hope, when you came knocking at my
door last night, years after I had packed my dancing shoes in the cardboard box
and locked it up in the Almirah. Memories, like dust settled on the brown
cover. Cob-webs pranced from side to side, my heart still trapped in the
labyrinth of the past. That night when you held my hand again, we danced to
beauty and love. The night screamed of the warmth of summer, as your words
slayed the icicles of my broken heart. You let me drink in hope. You made me
believe our music had not yet ceased to play. The stage was still lit and our
feet would still tap at the sound of our love. So, I took your hand and chose
to dance. Skeptical and hesitant; I took a step, after all these years. I
unearthed my dancing shoes from mounds of the past. Dusting off memories of
brokenness and chaos; I took a chance, swaying from one end of the continuum to
the other. Swinging from heartache to light, hoping the music would tether
together pieces of my old self. As the music intensified with every step, you
swirled me and then in a moment you were gone. Oh, how close was I to the realm
of light when you let go. Again. Now, I’m left again with my dancing shoes,
packed in a box, covered in dust. This time, buried in my backyard, for time to
nibble on the remnants of a love that once lived in my heart.
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