The Love In The Movies

What do I know about romance?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

All I could ever do is want to kneel on the floor beside you, and hold your hand.

My brain is dizzy. There is fire and ice all around. Thunder shakes the stars, and we ride to the ballroom.

A thousand candles flicker on the walls as we step onto the snow white marble floor. A tuxedo and tails, slicked back hair, and eyes. A dress of sparkling white. Eyes, dark and mysterious, focused, intent.

Gazing at you.

Taking your hand.

The room, suffused in pale blue light, begins to hum. The orchestra out of nowhere begins to play, and we move together in step. All else fades, a soft blur of ladies in gems and gentlemen with gloves, encircled around us, watching us.

Holding you in my arms, breathing in your scent. Lost in a dream world of love, infinity stretching out in front of us.

We dance away time. Without breaking our locked gaze, we move, together, as one. We dance up the walls.

I’m holding your hand, and looking in your eye.

We could fly out of the room, and onto the balcony.

We stand at the edge, hands clasped together, gazing lovingly at each other.

The earth could shake, and the mansion could tumble and crumble and fall away into dust, leaving only us, standing there, on a lone piece of stone.

Just us, and the night, in the spotlight of the moon.

I could sit on the floor, in front of you, and look in your eyes…
Kneeling on the carpet, and tell you my dream of romance.

But as the two lovers stand there, under the moon, time will pass…

And his hair will not be so slick.

And her hair slowly begins to come undone.

And the moon has to go down to make way for the sun.

And the movie has to end.

     But here I still am.

     Wanting to stroke the side of your face and find the words to tell you. Stroking the side of your face and saying nothing.

     I know we’re not in a ballroom. I know this isn’t a movie. Movies are short. Sometimes life is long. But the love in movies lasts forever, sometimes in life, love doesn’t.

     Sitting here, trying to find a way to tell you that my love isn’t like the love you find in the movies, but in a way, that it is EXACTLY the kind of love you find in the movies. Trying to figure out how to say that. Failing.

     But knowing, as we sit on the carpet together, how… damn… lucky… I am, to be here with you.

Holding your hand.

Looking in your eye.

But what do I know about romance?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.