This is Why I Don't Dance

A simple touch, hand in hand,
Yet white as light and soft as sand.
Thought confuse, logic mystify
By the shining in your eyes.
The lingering story of our last dance
Whispers of horror and romance.

A simple lie of my chill and your heat,
Told by our hands and woven by our feet.
We move through its joy, spin through its woes,
The tale ever turning from the tips of our toes.
It rolls like thunder and trills like a flute,
And I know what could be lies are truth.
What I lack in skill, beauty and grace
Are made up for by the love on your face.
But the story and ends and leaves it mark
And you release me as all grows dark.

Now light returns, and we have our chance.
The music begins. Would you like to dance?