Once you told me if I were a little bolder the world could be mine.

Actually, what you really said was, “hoooo!” with your hand on your heart, like the thought itself set your soul on fire.

THAT TIME I DRUNKENLY HIT ON YOU BY RACHEL NATBONY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 29

I never knew how perfectly captivating you could be until I got to see you on the dance floor. All bounces and dramatic pauses, fluid arms and full of life. I was pretty sure I wanted you.

I wanted you. How weird. How silly.

We were close, physically close, a different kind of physically close than we, together, knew. Hands around my waist instead of ruffling my hair. Pressed together electrically instead of comfortingly. Moving as one.

I held on because I was afraid you’d let me go.

You spun me, like we were five years old playing Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Donkey. I laughed because I felt alive and beautiful and daring and brave.

For the first time, I let myself truly feel how much I could love you.

There was a line. With us there’d always been a line, thin and daunting. We teased this line, le…