The lighting and music is always better in your head. And the pain from your high heels never actually bothers you. You get to say everything you want to say in those moments. Before sleep and before awake, when you're closest with your own body.
You're no longer tossing and turning in bed to get comfortable or flipping over to escape the morning light. You're body is yours and its still, so your mind can do anything.
In my mind I whisper dirty things to him and he melts. He grabs at me 110%. And I can't feel anything, I'm floating. Frank Sinatra is playing.
In reality, I think it's Tony Bennett and the overhead lights are already one. My eyes are thin and tired from champagne. He got me okay with smoking cigarettes again. And I notice he's good at taking mouthfuls of vodka tonics. His touch is softer then what I want, though he does compliment me.
Does he have to pause at the other girls in tighter dresses then mine. I look beautiful.
Why doesn't he grab at me and whisper dirty things in my ear.
I'm right here.
He feels so safe and that good kind of tall, and yet,
I feel like he's just holding back as much as I am.
What is he waiting for?
All I want is a real dance and lighter heels.