i dance as if printing words on air. the kind wobble of my gaucho hemlines. the release. bizarre bony elbows and a numb mind. dancing is the freedom my parents signed me up for after school in second grade. the movement. a vacation mixing my blood with the neon wind. empathy towards musicians and their heartbreak stories. the spiral of sensitivity. to be vanished and absolutely aware. so alert to that i’m currently repeating “this song reminds me of you.” tilting myself slightly and those faint whispers of you rattle along inside. in that way i’m dancing with you now. and i like how we turn together. side by side. rashly i like you. and in this moment i know better than to argue with my inflated organs.

XOXO,

Mute Style