Entranced by the sway of your hips, the swing that catches me unawares, I can’t look away. I sit on a stool, back pressed against the wall, drink sweating in my hand because you’ve made me thirsty, parched, just by the sight of you, and I need to drink–I must drink or perish–but I remain arrested, frozen, and still I cannot look away.
Your attention isn’t even on me or anyone for that matter. It’s lost to the aether; your hands caress your own sides, tendrils of your hair escaping their hastily tacked pins, and the soul-deep thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum of the bass has taken captive your feet, your ankles, your legs, that delicious–
I still… I can’t … I won’t, I refuse, to look away.
Because you’re here with me. Of anyone you could have come with, anyone you could have ditched me for, you are still here with me and so this is for me. I want to walk over there and sweep you away from the crowd, away from the spotlight, to pin you against the wall and move my hips against yours.
I want to pour this drink down your body and ensure not a single drop touches the floor.
I want you. I desire you in a way that roars from my chest, from my stomach, from my spleen at the strength and the pace of the thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum–
I need you. Right now. Here. This instant. I need you.
I can’t look away because I can’t let you disappear from my eyes.
I need to have you or I’ll perish.