once you tried to tell me what a great feeling it was to dance with someone
to press your body against a girls and sway to your favorite song
staring into her eyes (which looked like the stars apparently)
but then you asked me what it felt like to dance with a boy, in a girl's mind.
and I laughed at you. I laughed because you assumed that I had danced with
a boy. You didn't understand that
(why didn't you understand that? with the combination of my face and
my heart it's given that I had never even been noticed)
so you vowed to change that
now I was the one that didn't understand that.
I assumed you would get one of your obnoxious guy friends to ask me to dance,
just so I could feel good about myself (that wouldn't have helped, because
they would've laughed the whole time)

you took my hands and pulled me onto the floor
(it was tile or something, I didn't know exactly, but I did know
the exact patterns that were under us because I spent
most of my time staring down while we danced)
I asked you why you were dancing with
a rain cloud, and you said you wanted to be my sunshine,
and together we would make a rainbow
and I think the song said something like 'it never rains when I'm
in your arms', and the two of us laughed so loud
the whole school (or at least those of us who danced)
looked at us, and I saw jealous girls pointing and staring,
and to make it even better, you lowered your lips to mine,
not kissing me, but they didn't know that, you said
'I would kiss you, but I don't want to rush things'
and I said nothing, and the song was over, and I went back to my friends

at the next song I caught you staring at me
and my friends pointed to you but I shoved their hands away
and my skin turned as red as the rose you threw at me
when our seventh grade play was over, and we
stood side by side playing the duet, playing the happy couple holding hands
except then it was called "play" for a reason
it was pretend, and it didn't mean anything when our lips almost touched
and now it meant more than anything.
(it meant more than that time in eigth grade when you handed me a valentine,
and laughed, so I thought it was a joke)
perhaps a boy really did like me, just this once, and perhaps,
(based on the way you gently held me over the tiled floor and danced with
me like you cared)
perhaps that boy was you.