Choreography of the Heart

Why are we so afraid of saying "I love you"? We watch movies, read books, go see plays, and are introduced to characters who are not afraid to fall in love. Not afraid to jump...or to put your emotions on the line. To get your heart broken if only to hear the stitches splitting and the dull thud of each separate side falling into your lungs...halting your breath. Then, when a pair of gentle hands lift those fragments together and stitch you whole once more, you truly feel it. So when your days are numbered, your skin is weathered, and your story is being passed on through your past beads of sweat, your heart becomes a handmade quilt. A patch from him, a patch from her, stitches from one decade to the next, some are frayed, and some are just empty needle holes. What's wrong with that? This image is transfixed in my mind...what's the point of having a beating heart if you are not willing to beat it and let it beat you? To scold it and coddle it, to lend it out and then let the distance make itself grow fonder. Don't think it doesn't need the exercise...with every subtle brush or lingering gaze the heart takes a shot of espresso or a dive into ice cold water, and it sprints away with gratitude. Tripping over its feet it bubbles gratefully and drones out all thoughts in your brain. You stand transfixed as it tap dances inside your rusty rib cage. Flap, stomp, shuffle, step, step...steps towards him, tap, tap, slide, and ball change, turn...turn your back, change your ways, drag, drag, stamp, stomp, FALL. No sound. Only reverberating echoes of the metal against scuffed floors, the shadows smudged on dirty, mirrored walls, the smell of sweat, the strained muscles... the memories. Then the music starts off once more. Slowly crooning, crescendoing and its weary body is invigorated once more as it rises to face the audience. Only problem is, it has forgotten the steps. Poor thing...back to lessons. But this time it's from another teacher, new steps, new techniques, but always mixed with the old. It's shell (you) suddenly feels the tapping again, the beating, and the inexplicable stammering. You smile...it's spring again, your heart takes a final leap, and then bows amid the applause. A good show, time well spent...bravo.