Just Dance

colors flash
rumbles shake the soul
bodies elastic
beats bash
moves are fantastic
desperately trying to look cool
people mash
let's have some fun
she's beautiful
limbs are spastic
out of control
she's left for the bathroom
figures clash
whiff of perfume
she's back
no longer a dash
slowly being spun
into one
there in the black
sweat melds
position is held
compelled
to hold her tightly
make the advance
feel her breath, slightly
consumed in a trance
just dance

The Telephone

Expectedly cheerful, her voice sings to me.
Unwavering, lively and always busy.
Wouldn't mind talking an hour or three,
but we can't.

How's my day? It's fine; and yours? It's good too.
Are those sniffles? Oh, my. So you've caught the flu?
I would love to drive there and visit you,
but I can't.

Rambling transition-less, awkward and flailing.
Trying to get her to stay, but I'm failing.
Wait, I think the next topic's unveiling,
but she can't.

Despite that she's hung up, I'm still hung up on her.
Thinking about how things are and things were.
I could call her back and let feelings transfer,
but I won't.