Deja Vu

WE’VE done this before. I know we have.

This feeling is ominous, and heavy with déjà vu.  Why would I think we’ve done this before?

There’s a lift, and a spin, I float and glide across the floor, I’ve never danced with you before.

But we’ve done this before.  The room spins around us as the crowd gathers to watch, feats of athleticism and monuments of grace. 

This dance is not new, it can’t be, it feels too practiced, too easy to be new, we’ve definitely done this before.

Your hand is cold no my back, while you guide me where you want me to go. I don’t’ feel you pushing me, no pressure, just eh coldness of your hand.  It feels so comfortable, so familiar, but who are you?

Why do I know we’ve done this before.

Your head is so straight, so firmly held in place like a formal statue, but I can’t seem to look into your eyes. I’ve seen them before, and I don’t’ like what’s in them.

I have wind rushing in my hair, and my breath is labored but strong, I hear the steady beat of the music, this gorgeous waltz, but it doesn’t sound familiar. Yet while the tempo changes suddenly and without warning, my feet seem to match it perfectly, no effort needed.  We must have done this before.

Why are you spinning me to quickly now? I don’t understand what happened! You’ve lost the grace, we have no strength or dignity to our dance, you are simply spinning me wildly out of control. I don’t’ want to do this anymore.

I struggle, with your cold hand on my back, and your invisible face breathing on my neck, to stay standing. But the spins are more rapid, my feet are hurting and my chest is tightening.  I won’t’ last much longer.

But I expect this because we’ve done this before…

As I lose all control and fly uncontrollably out of your arms, I remember when we’ve last done this dance.  Why I know it so well. You always do this to me, you always start out so gracefully and sweetly.  But we’ve done this before, and it always ends so painfully.

***        ***        ***        ***

As I walk into the dance, I hear the faint music beginning, and see the most beautiful costumes and elaborate masques. 

What a rush, a room full of strangers, I flush with excitement as I make my way to the dance floor.

An old familiar voice whispers in my ear, “would you care to dance?”

And I say yes… this is oh so familiar… Your cold hand, the eyes I can’t bear to look into.

But it can’t be you, you’ve never worn this Masque before.  And I would never dance with you again anyway. It always hurts so much at the end.

But I can’t help but feel something inside me, like we’ve done this before.