the pull

It’s been a while since I’ve felt that pull, irrational, my heart jumping beneath the cage that keeps it still. In movement, we meet, my curious eyes following, my ears open. For three hours, we move together, with others, touching sometimes, space between us often. I try not to stare. I want to watch you, though, and when we come into contact, our bodies melting, I never want to break apart, and I imagine us making love. It happened last time, too, six months ago, when I was in this same place, dancing. It’s not possible to explain, the pull, and I sit in the park now wondering about what it is that you smile about; I wonder about what makes you frown, have you a lover? I want you, and we hadn’t spoken. Shit. I’d forgotten what this feels like – the pull. I’d been cruising, not wanting, not craving. I’m unsure if I’m pleased or not, and whether I want this feeling to leave. Did you feel it too?

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