Dancing

I used to say, "I don't dance."

Which, of course wasn't true

But I was afraid of what people would think if they knew I did.

Now I say, "I dance, but I'm not good at it."

Though that's untrue also.

I'm good in my own eyes, and that is what matters.

Last night my heart was hurting.

And I tried something new.

I danced around my room to something up-tempo.

Just like my fictional aunt of the chosen family I so adore and so miss.

I just want to be back there to revel in it, and dance with my beloveds.

But I have no beloveds here.

So I dance on my own

In my dorm

While the roommates are away partying

I danced to the same five minute song over and over and over again.

Until the roommate came back and I apologized out of old habit for gyrating with my naked legs.

She scoffed, as she is one to do, and I wrapped my sweaty self into my sea-foam blankets.

I didn't sleep-

I did too good of a job at bringing myself back to the energized state I have a hard time getting to now a days.

I thought of how I used to dance every day

I thought of how I used to be afraid of high heels but managed to learn complex choreography to do in them

I thought back to all I've done and seen and been, and it makes me realize how triumphant I am underneath all these tears-

Just like the song I listen and dance to.

I must not revert to apologies just because the world around me wants to bring me back to that.

Think of Hero and all her wise words.

She knew better than I how mean it was here, but I figured I was ready for it.

But though I may appear cold and callused

I'm soft and permeable, and I long to be that way.

I've thrived that way, when I can brush off the bitterness that likes to harden over my pretty soft gore

But I dance only alone

No one can watch, or at least I pretend the voyeuristic skyscraper's eyes are closed, though they aren't.

I think and pretend I'm back home with Cisne teaching me choreography that's far above me.

I tell him-

We can coexist in our own way in the same space, and that's what makes it beautiful, love.

I try to be the prodigal daughter, though as time goes by, I realize that won't be.

Since I'm not into lying; I'm not good at it either

"Have you been crying?"

I don't say no, I just turn my eyes away.

But I'd rather have my heart hurt as strong as it does than go without feeling.

I'm all over catharsis, dear-

And that is why, last night, I danced.