#storyish

[toppat-dad]

This entire situation is such a shitshow

Hope you're loving it as much as I am

[confidence-suggestions]

I had a dream last night of a bartender I like to refer as my bartender. He's 36 and I'm almost 23, just for some perspective. Essentially, we were cuddling in bed, but like in a public area.

One of my spiritual mothers is psychic and she's telling me it's because we were thinking about each other, and he may have had a similar dream about me.

I'm a little shocked he's so invested in me, considering he bartends in a college town, so there are so many pretty girls there. Before I left last Saturday he kissed my cheek, and he calls me sweetheart. I liked him a lot as a bartender because he was fun to talk to, friendly, and gave me a lot of free drinks.

[poemsbylm]

Captive by Your Love

I can’t escape you, I don’t want to try. You have me bound so well. I was yours after one word.

Ensnared by your confident smile. You swept me away on a dance floor. We spun into a new reality, one with just us. As the music faded we returned, forever changed.

I can see you’re haunted by it, the ghost of the dimension lingers. You look like a man lost at sea and I am the land. Like you were asleep your whole life and now you are awake. I was the dream, come to life.

I know what you desire, it’s painted on your face. Hunger eyes scrape over my body. I feel the pulse of your heartbeat across the sea of people. You want to go back to the space of just us. Your first glimpse of the stars has left you hungry for more.

Pull, pull, pulling at me, the strings are starting to fray. I am trapped here, and so are you. Bound together by one moment, desperate to recreate it. The song is wrong, the steps are wrong, the dancers around us are wrong. We aren’t swirling on a dance floor, we’re spinning out of control.

May I have dance?

I love this song.

Shall we?

Let’s go.

Palm to palm, hand on back or waist? Each step has to be right or we’ll never get there. The first cords start once more and his hand is outstretched. I take it, his electric touch never changes. Carefully counting the steps to the same place we were the first time. Artificial movements to recreate real love.

He didn’t squeeze my hand the first time we did this. His expectant smile makes my heart flutter. Stop focusing on getting the steps right, it was never a half-rate waltz that transported us. It was the swelling feeling. It was an electric touch and a hypnotic melody paired with a dizzying spin, followed by being caught by strong arms. It was his smile at my dazed face.

I stare up at him again, struck by the feeling that this is exactly like the first time. He slowly smiles and we resume the dance, spinning around our world.

[toppat-dad]

[toppat-dad]

[toppat-dad]

[toppat-dad]

Time for "the defense" to give their piece amirite-

[toppat-dad]