the embrace

before you dance, it's over. once you put your heads together and he cradles your back against his forearm, there is no disengagement.
maybe you shimmy a bit, drop your shoulders down your back and breathe into your height. and maybe he opens the fist of the arm holding you, spreads his fingers and lays them one by one on the muscle just beneath your shoulderblade. he takes your other hand and lifts it to build the frame, and you channel tension into intention, and push back lightly in his hand.
the music starts and it could be that you, as a unit, do not move. except to rock a bit on your toes to make sure that where he goes, you follow.
by the time he leads your first step, your heartbeat falls on the contrapasso.
you dont blink, your eyes lower, relaxed, to give their energy away to your core. they graze his collarbone and they dont guess. they wait to find his heart, and when it turns away, they chase to keep up. and so the body goes after. heart, chest, hips, heels. you feel it from his torso, he gives it to you in the frame, he pivots to face you, and waits, because you are what makes him move. he dances for you to dance. and you say thank you when your body pays attention.
you don't have any thoughts. his are movement. not of movement--they just are. steps. words, humming through the floor. you glide on his soul, with your back to the world.
and when the dance is coming to an end, he lets you go to whip you back, just one last time to send you off, back to the world, your face flush with the grace of a silent goodbye.