The Dance by Devin Pavlischak/ November 4th, 2015 ©

That motion carries, the music grows loud.

Quick paced memory, tuned out in adrenaline.

From our youth, we move in violent passion.

It’s passive to no being, for tiny hearts.

They all contribute, in the slow sound.

These are sincere moments, they’re so precious.

Before the memory, my hands begin to tremble.

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