by Angela Harelson

Created on: May 25, 2010

"Interpretations"

Touch, it's that thing I do. 
That thing I've always done. 
That need to be closer to others...
 ...especially since so many pass quickly in and out of my life. 
And I...
...I never know how long I'll be in theirs.

I cling to dance,
because touch is memory.
Even the not so happy ones.
Tales. Stories. Histories. Lessons.
All of them mine.

Dance, like music.
My fingertips...
...leave notes on a page of another's skin.
It's how I connect.
Touch a hunger
that's hard for me not to sate.

Touch something I find
on dance floors...
...where supply
meets demand.

I can...
Give over.
Give up and... 
...give in.
For the duration of a song,
...surrender.

Music is my drug.
Tells stories.
Creates movement, motion.
Dance, my First Love.
This form of expression...
...lets me bleed things
too hard to express with words alone.

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