By Siyavush Mammadov
Thoughts & Poetry


As the lights dimmed in this dance floor, I have come to my senses.

I love how tender the touch, the unspoken sensuality, and the swinging feels, but this dance I can dance no more.

For as the violins played, I stepped forward and you took two steps back.

This playful dance had me chasing and begging, but this dance I can dance no more.

For behind you was someone else about to join this dance I used to love so well.

And though the music transcends into my skin and into my soul, I’ve nothing but the memory of your gaze and this gaping hole.

All this time I have loved this dance, but this dance I can dance no more.

For though tango was made for two, three can also share this swinging sensuality.

This tango is a dance no longer for me and you.

A corporate tough cookie with the soul of a gypsy. Professional bathroom singer. Teacher. Poet. A light-eyed dreamer who nitpicks for a living as she waits for redamancy.

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