Posted this one on TSR but I figured I might as well re-post it over here.
**
West Point Fairy Tale
Stop that--
I can't breathe when you're looking at me like that.
My face is on fire and my heart is slamming against my ribcage,
But I can't look away from you.
You're asking me a question, but my God,
Am I supposed to be able to hear you?
I can't hear anything because I'm drowning
In the smell, the feel, the warmth of you.
The music and the bodies around us
Are pumping and swaying suggestively
Lights flash
And the masses of hormone-crazed teenagers let loose a shout.
But for all I know we could be dancing
In some once-upon-a-time ballroom
Far removed from this anti-romance atmosphere.
Why are you taking off your gloves?
Because that will mean--
Your hands are around mine now, and it's happening again:
I can't draw air into my lungs.
Inhale, exhale
I've only been doing it for sixteen years but suddenly I'm re-learning everything.
"I'm going to consider this my first real slow dance,"
I say without thinking, in the middle of a song I'm not listening to.
Your mouth tips in a half-smile, and you inform me that
This is not a real slow dance.
But this is, and you're pulling my body against yours
And I'm closer to you than I've ever been to anyone
And it's true, what they say about bodies molding and fitting every curve
And it's true that the breath is stolen from your throat
And it's true that sometimes gasps are involuntary.
"Too close?" you ask with that same knowing grin
And there is cold air rushing in to replace the heat
That has filled every part of me.
And my pulse is pounding in my throat and wrists and
I just know you can feel it and it only makes me
blush harder.
You lied, you know,
When you assured my sister that you are safe
Merely because you're taken.
You're dangerous
Because you're making me think things I shouldn't be thinking
And you're making me feel things I shouldn't be feeling.
You're forcing me to memorize you:
Your voice and your hands and your mouth
To cling to every sensation:
The bump of a leg, the warmth of a hand on my back, the cool air on my bare arms
Because I'm saturating myself in this night;
This could never happen again.
And when the proverbial clock tolls midnight
And my coach comes to whisk me away from my one night of romance,
You catch my hand before I walk away
Pull me closer
Press your lips to my hand
And I marvel that the tradition had ever fallen out of practice.
Tall and solid
With a heart-melting smile
And "may I fall into your arms?" brown eyes
You visited my dreams for weeks and distracted me from schoolwork for months.
And it was perfect:
My West Point fairy tale.
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