The darkness blinds me, and cheers and cries combine to buzz my senses. My voice is muffled. I’m losing feeling in my face. A movement in the shadow draws my attention to a caution. I note a figure among the specks of light. It is stomping on my chest and widening my eyes. The entire light is directed toward him as the piano strains continue to pound; as the violin string escorts.
Illuminating like a gold.
He is shifting to the beat, and his frame is merging with his soul. When he twists his head, his perfect brown hair swings tenderly. Grace, charm, and enticement have all made me docile at one point or another. 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.
His enchantment has me shivering, 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.”