Will it be all right if I took her hand and move her a little, to the side to the front, and then a spin. Let this music shape us, now that the lights are dimmed, its ok if we are not in control. She stood above me wearing a lavender summer dress, bending with each thump, key and strum, the transitions of her hips matched the music and her face, grimacing as if as if the song was breaking her body. Slowly the night continued it’s usual cycle, it cools the air, and show’s off the moon, bringing with it an emotion, a shift of thought, of action. The night brings out creatures like her like it does to stars, just enough out your reach. As I stray from the sight of  her to catch my breath, I saw the people infatuated with the night. Some sat near a wall  loosely sculptured in their places unsure if its right for them to join the crowd. Others were demons in the face of day and angels of the night, what revolves around them is engulfed in fire causing a happiness achieved by sins justified with a cloak of shadows. Then there were people like her, swaying, sweating, unconscious, tired of the day who forcibly masks’ them the same. I continued my  imaginary searched for something until I  found myself forced onto her again.

What grew inside my stomach was a vile thing, screaming, then the emotion crawled up my chest slowing its rhythm almost to a halt. My eyes started tearing this need for this woman, this adoration is starting to itch my skin and crack my skull. She ruled her hips slowly, in a clockwise rotation. Soon after  her dress followed, lifted by her movements,  as if dancing with her, this accidental seduction heated the air, made it heavy. From her hip to her dress, her movements spread, she governed her hands to trace her curves, as if painting them in place. Everything that she was, left somewhere far, those worries, those thoughts, were for the day. Thinking is for when you could be ‘understood’. When you could be placed into being a thing because of your strut, your mouth, your labor, your bones, thinking is for when you can be seen. No one can mold you here, too many figures and dimness to understand you,  one can only be noticed; then justified by the ruling shadows of the moon. Like her we are hugged by the night, kissed by it, then left, then kissed again.  Never sure of the relationship that we share with its stars and moon, we are abused by the night, caught up in it, then are spit back in place forced to think in the face of day. 

The vile being that tried to push my innards out and stop the beating of my chest was gone now, the night paused, as if inhaling after a long exhale of rhythmic sounds and savageness of both body and mind. A drink bumped my elbow, as if greeting me, I don’t remember asking for one.  This liquid’s  color, signified its place in the drinkers pallet, may they be bitter, may they be sweet, drink enough and they’ll all be the same, I took a hesitant gulp. A slow motion befell this crowd,  this place, was it the booze, no, something more numbing, her eyes. They were a pair of mahogany colored marbles that held within them a promise that was better than tomorrow. A promise of acceptance, of life without care, a life in which you are understood rather than shaped, scrutinized, and held responsible for. With a single contact of eyes I saw a universe unlike the one we live in, a smaller  one,  a universe only containing a single concept, a promise of love. Not love that binds two hearts, two beds, two rings in the face of a god, no a love that binds souls, a love applied to all things. A love that is blunt and thoughtless, a  romance above faith, lust and copulation; a romance that can only be explained by the deed of it, a showing of care without the excuse of humanity. 

As brief as that meeting of our pupils began, it ended. A moment  so beautiful proved meaningless. To time we are but tourists, only visiting a moment to get a glimpse  of it, then are forced to place that moment into our memories only to let it seep in and haunt us; to tease us of the other ways we could’ve seen something, done something. She simply smiled away and continued with her dancing as  I’m left thinking about our moment. Our eyes met and I would glide through the masses, steal her left hand away from her hip and place it on my shoulder.  After, grab her right and have our finger interlock, then we would just sway, two souls swimming in time. A thing so bitter arose from the back of my tongue as the dream faded into reality, I glanced at her, it was goodbye, now to my bed i must head.  A cushion for this mound of skin, so that this physical vessel my rest to face yet another blinding day. My legs were no longer confident, not that they ever were, they bended and dragged as I try to reach the door leading me out of this place, tonight I gambled, and tonight I lost to chance. An ugly thing, chance, an evil thing, a thing that gives, and then takes.  Chance is a god that practices predestination, almost experimenting with it, not sure of anything it has destined you to do. Only that it must give, and it must take, and take it does, in massive proportions chance steals away all that you have or will ever have. Now I face the door to the real world, actually right now I’m looking forward to it.

The air move my hair, almost combing it, reminding me of its existence, It was a cold gust that welcomed me outside.  I breath in releasing all that was kept inside in my time in the house of sin and golden beauty. Neon lights illuminated the grey concrete that lay beneath my brown oxford shoes. Green, blue and reddish- pink, mashed together to form an alien color, it tickled a smile out of me, yet another beautiful thing. Was that it, beauty, was that what all that she was? Not one word was shared between us, no hint of personality was shown, only what I thought, she could be and not what she was.  Was it all just beauty, the tastes, the smell,the emotions, the night, chance, sin, what was ugly, and what was pure. All that I have experience in this cold heavy night, and all the others that came before it, was it all caused by you? You a thing so vague, a non- existent and yet present deity, you the one who holds our hearts, is this is all because of beauty? Our pursuit of it, is tiring and bewildering, and we are so fickle about beauty.  Its because of our hearts, that let itself be stolen and touched  by beauty’s dirty hand . The human weakness is  in the heart, and the on that holds it, that  govern it is the true god.   The heart does not follow us, it follows its religion, blindingly chasing beauty wherever it chooses to be. May it be her, the sinful lifestyle and the heavy consumption of the bitter drink.  Beauty, it preaches this belief in fickleness to our hearts.  Can I be free to storm this tied this pain, this pleasure, this life, without heart, without its religion,its indecision, its conflicting of emotion. I want to walk the rest alone tonight, for I saw beauty and it was a tease. 

An angry tear escaped me, and the night became so clear. It was nothing more than what it is, a time, a place, a person, it gives no judgement, no direction, just a chance to  be that somebody, to have that thing. A chance to sprint for once and stop  crawling towards life and whatever it may contain. Here I’am blaming my life on something that does’t exist, beyond the neon lights was darkness and it  was the ugliest , most beautiful chance of tomorrow.