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Parking Lot Slow Dance
What better place to be on a Friday night
than at a sweaty, steamy punk-rock show
with the one you utterly love and adore?
That was you and I last night
when we danced to the music like we used to.
When we sang, arms around each other,
“A punk rock song won’t ever change the world
but I can tell you about a couple that changed me.”
When we shoved each other, and hit each other,
with fists more full of love than anger,
when you wrapped your arms around me;
“You’re a hooligan, Jules.”
When the room gets too hot and we take a rest outside
is when the emotions start to pour out.
The way you look at me as you sit there on that rock wall;
I know exactly what you’re thinking.
You missed me. You missed us.
And I missed you, too.
I realized just how much when you grabbed my hands and smiled.
“Let’s slow dance.”
Such a middle-school comment to make,
but one that will remain in my memory
and heart forever.
When you grabbed my waist and pulled me closer,
forcing me to wrap my arms around your neck;
I will never forget that feeling,
that feeling of complete bliss that took over my body,
my soul, heart, and mind;
wishing that we could remain this way forever.
Swaying in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night,
holding each other tight because it just feels so good,
it feels like this is how it’s supposed to be,
how it should have been all along and how it should remain for the rest
of our lives.
As you hum whatever tune it is that you do,
all I can do is nestle into your neck,
where I belong; the place I’ve been missing for a year.
And we parking lot slow dance as the stars shine above
playing the songs of our years;
and our story continues on.
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