Don't Mind

Don’t Mind

How they ended up there, honestly, neither of them knew, nor cared for that matter. His arm around her waist, the other intertwined with her fingers, forehead pressed against hers, eyes gazing in to hers, slowly swirling in the middle of the sidewalk, under the sparkling moonlight and the amber luminescence of a lone streetlamp.
         May I have this dance? He had asked, extending a hand. He had no idea, or recollection of a rational explanation behind this question, but he asked anyways. A twinkle in his eyes, a shade of black to match his suit, to match the infinite night sky, he waited for an answer.
         A dance? She replied, a puzzled looked across her face, there’s no music.
         We don’t need any.
         The flowing locks of golden hair, pale and diaphanous, thin streaks of silver and golden dancing as his hand brushed through them to touch her cheek, bringing him closer to her. He was a step or two taller, hovering above her, watching her.
         A dance? Uncertainty and confusion filled her voice.
         Yes, he whispered, a dance. Her face flushed red, a tint of pink and red, like delicate rose petals, he was almost amused.
         He placed his other arm around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fine silk of her dress. She never wore dresses, but she was a sight to be envied in one. The other hand found her, slowly and gently parted her fingers and clasped her hand.
         Please don’t mind.
         Barely a whisper as his lips found hers. She jumped a little, then relaxed, pressing her body against his. Her hand broke free from his and almost instinctively placed them around his neck.
         A little ludicrous, a little ridiculous, a little unexpected, a bit sweet and a bit desperate, almost pleading, yearning, they stood there, held tightly against each other, in the thin light of a dark night and the warm luminance of a streetlight.
         Her lips tasted like sugar, how ethereal a feeling, how calescent his heart, how perfectly wonderful this moment was. He could smell her light perfume, the scent of flowers in bloom, the smell of honey and candy.
         She wanted to keep him, hold him still, feel his heart beat against her chest, feel that he was alive; feel that he was real and there. Just how far did she fall, how deeply into the shadowy depth of his obsidian eyes did she manage to fall. How far to chase his elusive love? How far?
         Their lips parted slowly, as if time stopped momentarily just for them. He looked at her, gazed into her eyes, an apologetic look, asking her to pardon his flaws, his failures, his faults, his inabilities and his fears, his foolishness, his follies.
         Please don’t mind.
         How they ended up there, how they ended up there? The moonlight danced and swayed across the sidewalk, across the treetops and the park benches, across the closed storefronts and the lone cars on the road, across the city, across the boundless night sky. Radiating, it seemed, from that very spot where the moonlight merged with the streetlight, filtering through the glass, a light that illuminated the small patch of space that the two occupied. How they ended up there?
         I don’t mind.