The Partnerless Dancer
There I stood, waiting for her. We had gotten tickets to a once in a lifetime ball, it being once in a lifetime because in the 21st century we rarely see balls take place. But we somehow got tickets to this one. I was a nervous wreck. We’ve always loved dancing together, but it was just fun and silly dancing while cooking or cleaning or soft romantic sways when we were on a date. We’d often talk about what kind of dance we’d do for our first dance once we got married. But this, this was the real deal. And there I was, completely nervous, and waiting for her to arrive. I was fidgeting with the jacket of my tux when I heard a gasp behind me. I turned around and saw several people staring at the ballroom’s grand staircase, their mouths agape.
I slowly looked at the staircase and I saw her, the love of my life, descending like a queen to her throne. Her wavy, walnut hair cascaded down her back, save for one small twirl framing either side of her face. Atop her head was a small, silver tiara with three gems, an opal in the center flanked by two smaller emeralds. She wore a matching silver necklace with a matching opal on it. Her dress was breathtaking, it was a lighter forest green color with off the shoulder sleeves and silver trim along the hem and neckline. I drank in the sight of beauty that captivated my attention. I looked at her face and saw her smiling back at me. Her lips were a muted red color, inviting but not overwhelming. She had the briefest hint of green eyeliner that matched her dress. But what entranced me was her eyes, a melted chocolate color, warm and smooth and something that I could get lost in forever.
I made my way to the steps, arriving just before she reached the bottom. I gave her a warm smile, filled with love, and offered her my hand. She took it and descended the last few steps. We walked to the center of the ballroom, me still holding her hand, and we pause and face each other. As if the musicians were waiting for us alone, they started playing a waltz. I took her into my arms and we danced. As we spun around the dance floor, the music, the background noise, and the other people faded from existence: it became just her and I. The joy filling her smile, the love in her eyes. Everything was lost her in presence, everything except how much I loved her and loved this moment. After the waltz ended, the musicians changed to a soft, slow melody, one that did not need a style of dance, just two hearts beating as one. I pulled her to me and put my hands on her hips, she instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck.
I gave her a soft smile and whispered, “You are so beautiful.” She grinned, then buried her face in my chest. I brought my lips close to her ear and said, “I love you.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide, tears starting to form in them. I asked softly, “May I kiss you?”
She slowly nodded her head, a smile on her lips. I leaned in and gently pressed my lips to hers, and I could feel her smiling ever wider. My breath hitched as I pulled away, our breaths mingling for a few intimate moments.
The rest of the night, we danced and smiled and laughed. I may have even kissed her a few more times, but I couldn’t help it because she was the woman I loved and she looked absolutely radiant.
The next morning, I slowly woke up, my eyes cracking open to welcome the morning light. A smile grew on my lips as I remembered the wonderful events of the previous night. The ball, the dances, the looks, the kisses, the radiant love of my life. I closed my eyes, still smiling, and turned over towards her in the bed. But my hands only touched cold sheets. I opened my eyes and my smile faded. She was not next to me in the bed. There was no second pillow on the bed for her. And that’s when I realized that last night, that wonderful and amazing night I shared with her at the ball, was not real. Just as she was not real. It was all just a dream.
I rolled back over, away from the spot where I thought she’d be before I realized none of it was real. I closed my eyes tightly, wanting to shut out the false memories. I pulled the blankets over my head, and tears started to fall from my closed eyes. The pain of having these fake memories was too much to bear. I either wanted them to be real or wanted them gone. Instead, I was forced to retain them. So there I was, stuck and crying. A romantic without anyone to love. A dancer with no partner.
Forged Lillies
Bloody steel on the ground once the battle is done.
Not sure of the result, but said that I won.
Crimson liquid drips from the edge, onto the soil.
What comes after this dark turmoil?
Peeping up from the ground, the tiniest of sprouts.
Do they know they will grow from the dirt and the rough?
Or, like me, do they always have doubts?
Bright colored lilies flourish around
The dried, rusty blade, memorialized on the ground.
Just as the lilies grow at the edge of the knife,
I grow strong through the perils of life.
Scars on my skin from my time in the mud,
I move onward with pride, no longer trying to hide
These steel-forged lilies I bought with my blood.