The darkness blinds me. Shouts and cries in the building howl together, buzzing my sense. I can not hear my voice. I can not feel my face. There is, a glance of move in the darkness takes me to a caution. Among the dots of light, I notice a figure. It is stomping my chest and open my eyes thoroughly. As the strains of piano pounding; as the stringed of violin escorting; the entire light is going toward him. Illuminating like a gold.
He is moving with the rhythm, with the soul merges his frame. His flawless brown hair swinging tenderly as he twists his head. Grace, beauty and seduction. I become docile at one time—no longer demanding by yelling his name. His tenacity drowns my desire; his fineness figure undermines my faith; and when he grins, a simple line at the corner of his lips makes me even more miserable. My body is shivered by his enchantment, and I want him right here.
The beat is rising, he jigs in solemn. He is writhed like my wind-blown hair. A pair of black eyes peeking from the slit of his fingers, as if he is teasing me there. There is nothing I can do but holding the light stick. Tightly, firmly, as he dances on the water. I whispers to myself, cuss myself of how much I adore him. I do not care when the girls beside me are screaming hysterically. All I want to do is enjoying the moments when he communicates with me through his moves.
The white shirt is getting wet, sticking to his brown skin. It almost tempts me to jump on the stage. I try to smuggle some thoughts, about how mad I am when he shows off his body. But then he smirks at me there, and I lose.
He bows as if he is stashing remorse. He hugs himself as if he is buried all griefs and anguishes. He is pointing at me and shake his head as if he does not allow me to smuggle his poignant. And when he is looking at me, he seems like whisper to me…
“Baby don’t cry.”