i. in biology class they won’t teach you why your heart beat accelerates at the sound of your name coming from her lips. like her voice pumped new blood into your veins and she is circulating within your system.
ii. your chemistry teachers can’t explain how the way her fingers tracing down your skin kick-starts a chemical combustion within your chest and makes you forget how it felt like to breathe before her fireworks ignited your skin.
iii. you’ll tell your art teachers that all you ever want to paint is the perfect curve of her smile, but they won’t teach you how to turn acrylics and pastel colors into any more of a masterpiece than she already is.
iv. you’ll study all of Shakespeare’s plays in literature class and you’ll learn the art of metaphors like the back of your hand, but no amount of empty words strung into analogies will ever do her any justice.
v. you’ve spent twelve years sitting behind a desk when all you’ve ever wanted to learn was how to love her with all you’ve got.
The music will move and so will we, and there will be comfort in the motion of our dance. Hidden in the moment will be a promise of a thousand more slow dances, sometimes in kitchens late at night, or on a street corner with a single lamp illuminating us, or at a friends wedding; but all the while, it will be just you and I, dancing together and feeling our hearts beat as we hold each other.
Even though the music hasn’t started, and I haven’t found my partner yet; I am learning to dance while I wait for you.