Image result for NY-Dance-Project-20170724-ArtemOlga-0645

One step we took in a loop,

Souls touching, soles knocking,

Maybe we’ll turn around, create some friction,

Maybe, maybe, maybe let love find our revolution.


One finger accused and flipped,

Right in the middle of anger and frustration,

Maybe we’ll lock fingers, dissipate some friction,

Maybe let fingerprints caress their way to reconciliation.


One word was said and came back around,

Right now, let me know if I’m enough—

Maybe I’d do anything to plaster this pleasing aesthetic,

Maybe I’d rather have all my flaws than none of my perfect.


One foot stomped the other to the ground,

Right, left, overstep and trip until you fall and pull me with you.

Head over heels, life stepping in and out of the way,

But baby—Maybe life was always meant to get in the way.


Maybe I’ll catch you, but life lets me fall,

Maybe right where I should have been before I saw you at all,

Maybe our age-long tango should have been a quick ball,

Maybe I was dreaming with my eyes wide shut,

About  a road down which we’d walk,

Maybe love is blind, but maybe,

Maybe I should have opened my eyes.


So let’s turn around, take steps till our backs,

Are back to back to back away from everything.

Let’s turn around slowly, maybe time will pass,

And maybe, just maybe, this dance won’t be our last.


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