The dark blinds me, cheers and cries are howling together, buzzing my sense. I can’t hear my voice. I can’t feel my face. There is, a glance of move in the shadow taking me to a caution. Among the specks of the light, I notice a figure. It is stomping my chest and open my eyes thoroughly. As the strains of piano keep pounding; as the string of violin escorting; the entire light is going toward him. Illuminating like a gold.
He is moving with the rhythm, with the soul merges his frame. His flawless brown hair swinging tenderly as he twists his head. Grace, beauty, and lure, I become docile at one time. His tenacity drowns my desire; his fine figure undermines my faith; and when he grins, a simple line at the corner of his lips makes me even more miserable. My body is shivered by his enchantment, and I want him right here.
The beat is rising, he jigs in solemn. A pair of his black eyes peeking from the slit of his fingers, as if he is teasing me there. There is nothing I can do but holding the light stick. Tightly, firmly, as he dances on the water. I whisper to myself, cuss myself of how much I adore him. I don’t care when the girls beside me are screaming hysterically. All I want to do is enjoying the moments when he communicates with me through his moves.
The white shirt is getting soaked, sticking to his brown skin. It almost tempts me to jump on the stage. I try to smuggle some thoughts, about how mad I am when he shows off his body. But then he smirks at me there, and I lose.
He bows as if he is stashing remorse. He hugs himself as if he is buried all griefs and anguishes. He is pointing at me and shakes his head as if he does not allow me to smuggle his poignant. And when he is looking at me, it seems like he is whispering…
“Baby don’t cry.”