Sway

She moves, and the world has to twist in her wake.

Maybe if you saw her, that would a little more sense. Me, I'm a seasoned veteran of shaking hips, but even I took notice when she hit the doors and shattered that glass like a rush of butterflies. She was disruptive, destructive, and pure. She left the place the way she found it, but it was never quite the same. She broke the world for second impressions, because she'd moved on since then. Understand? If you're lucky, you will.

She's got a class of character that swallows people whole. She's as violent as the sea and as calm as the beach in the sunlight. She burns you in the right ways, and the time is never quite enough. Her eyes are fierce and tidal - when she's high on you, you cannot breathe. When she ebbs, you dry and thirst. Get what I'm saying? If God or the devil's willing, you might.

She never stays. No, she never, ever stays. The way she moves, it isn't written into her choreography. She knows how to touch, how to kiss, how to sink in deep but she couldn't dream to linger. I've seen a lot of girls come and go, but going is her nature, as certain as the sunrise. The view of her leaving is just as intoxicating toxic as the sight of her coming. It'll kill a man. It'll make a girl a heartbroken woman. But it's all part of the promise in her stride. You feel me? If the angels are watching, you won't.

I hope you think I'm full of shit. Some moments ruin a man for feeling. It's better to believe in the good old stories than to chase them. You get what I'm saying? If you do, I know your eyes and I share your battle scars.

When she moves, the world twists in her wake. That's me, twisted. All in all, I can't complain. What good would it do, when nature has its way in the end?