on holding on

I'm unusually hard to hold on to.- Sara Bareilles (Love Song)
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I'm a flurry of motion and words that make no sense to anyone but me-

Je ne comprende pas!

I smile and my eyes dance as I curl up even more on the edge of the dingy couch in the back room of a house I've never been in before tonight. There is something comfortable still,

though.

The boys around me laugh and try to guess what i'm saying, but I simply refuse, replying:

je ne sais pas.

I will not break.

Someone sits down next to me, I don't remember who. Or if I knew who- His accent is much better than mine,

as he asks me how I am.

Comme ci, comme ca.

I shrug, he smiles.

He begins talking to me, and I couldn't tell you if I remember much of what he was saying, if I was even listening, until he says-

you have a pretty face.

I break-

really?

He smiles and nods, and I forget who says those words as soon as I hear them, as I am pulled away to engage in yet another conversation with another person.

I need something -someone- to hold me still.

on drowning on dry land

I'm gasping for the air to fill my lungs with everything i've lost. -Snow Patrol (It's Beginning to Get to Me)
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At first there is the shock as I fall deeper in the bluegreengray abyss-

I am drowning.

I am drowning, and no I am not asleep, I am fully awake-

and is this really what its like? Is this really the end?

I feel oddly at peace, with this realization that this is it for me. All of those things that seemed to matter so much seem so insignificant now.

All I can do is be aware, aware that I have not the strength to stay above, to fight. I watch the sunlight disappear as I slip further still, gasping and feeling my lungs fill with water, yet it doesn't hurt- can't hurt. I always thought there was more, for me.

With a gasp, my eyes flutter open and for a second, enveloped in the darkness, I am terrified.

Then I remember-

it was just a dream.

on two to tango

Objection I don't want to be the exception, To get a bit of your attention. I love you for free, And i'm not your mother, But you don't even bother, Objection, I'm tired of this triangle, Got dizzy dancing tango, I'm falling apart in your hands again- No way, I've got to get away.- Shakira (Objection (Tango))

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I can't decide if I think you care. I can't decide if I care. I must- to be wondering about you. Still, I look down at my foot, align it with the edge of the door and do my best to look past you as I take my shot and make it in.

She's on fire,

he crows from beside me, wrapping me in a hug. I squeal and throw my arms around his neck all the while wondering why i'm here. Why didn't I just leave when I had the chance?

We win the game, but that doesn't really mean much. Only that I drink my drinks in sucession because no one else at the table will want to touch vodka.

I wander into the other room, hoping perhaps that a change in music will bring a change in attitude. You look at me, smirk -not smile- and grab my hand, to twirl me around on the hardwood floor.

We pause for a moment, looking at eachother, and you kiss me as if it's something you meant to do all night but somehow forgot was allowed.

All I can think is how salty you taste.

We break apart, my hands moving away from your side, as I wonder what this means.

He returns, having been in the bathroom to grab me and dip me with a smile on his face -not a smirk- and I wonder why i'm even bothering.

You walk away,

and I give up on this tango that never ends.