Offer the dance. Show me you like me, and I’ll show you that I like you. Not the potential of me nor the promises I whisper. Not the potential of you nor the promises you whisper.The you and me who wiggle and sway to the music of love, desire that burns to scattered ashes, harmony that indulges until one or both of us loses our voice. Offer the dance. When exhaustion steals desires. When noise overwhelms harmony. When body screams and soul cries. Offer the dance. Show me you like me though love falters. I’ll show you I like you though my love lies in obsolete music and pressed flowers, in drooping breasts, dry lady garden, elapsed memory, complicated negotiations. Liking each other was the learning and earning part of us. Liking each other gave us reason to stay. Liking each other was the beacon in darkness, the balm over stresses and annoyances, honest hope, trustworthy and persevering through love’s lies. Offer the dance. Arms, hands, eyes, purity, agreement, seeing in you what I want to be, seeing in me what you want to be, a moment of love because we like each other above all else.