I'm sorry you've forgotten how to dance

by 23:25 0 comments
You learn to make peace with the way the wind blows your hair across your face and your hands tremble as you push them aside. 

You drink tea, you hate tea. 
You drink it anyway. 
You miss coffee but your addictions haven’t ever done you any good. 

You decide you’ll wake up earlier the next morning. You set all your alarms right. 
But you never go to sleep. 
You’re awake when they ring, you switch them off and go to sleep. 
You get used to watching the clock tick by waiting for the sun to rise. 

You hate watching the sunrise. 
You’ve always been a sunset person.
Sunsets remind you of home and your art, your poetry, your music, your love, and hope. 
You shut the curtains tight before the sun fades away. 

I’m sorry that you have to dance to forget why you ever started dancing at all. 
And it’s not slow dancing with wine and jazz and fairy lights and happiness either. 
It’s trembling fingers, hesitant footsteps and a heart that beats to the lack of rhythm in your movement. 
I’m sorry you have to get used to dancing that you don’t find dancing at all. 
It’s running and tumbling and falling and picking yourself up, all on your own. 

I know you’ve never been afraid to fall. 
Just of having no one to pick you up. 

And I’m sorry you have to get used to locked doors and dreams that never find words. I’m sorry you have to keep it all to yourself. 

You get used to it. 

To music you play for yourself on Sunday afternoons, to your art hidden in the sheets of your diary, to letters stashed on your bedside table that never have stamps on them, to days feeling like nights and nights feelings emptier than ever, to all the emptiness in you that shows its dark face when it can’t get darker, to smiles that never stretch to your eyes and laughter that never makes its way to your ears. 

I’m sorry that you have to get used to this. 
To all of this. 
I really am.

I’m sorry. 

And the lack of it. 

_I’m sorry you’ve forgotten how to dance



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