How it felt to leap through the air, the wind pulling and playing at my unkempt hair.
I remember what it was like to be free, nothing more than a blur of movement to the rest of the world.
I was happy.
But that was all before.
Before I met you.
You grabbed my hand and pulled me in. It wasn't my choice to go with you, but I didn't object either.
We moved so well together,
your hand in mine and mine in yours.
I thought that you were someone to count on, someone who would always be there to catch me when I would jump too high.
I've tried to forget, tried to move on, really I have, but it's hard.
I tried to dance again, but the loneliness is all too noticeable.
My head longs to rest on your shoulder, my back aches without the support of your arms. I can't dip myself down low to the ground without you there to bring me back up again.
The truth is
I don't want to dance if I'm not dancing with you.