You bow, I curtsy.
Our initial greeting. 
The music begins to play. 
Glove to glove, 
our hands touch.
Careful not to touch 
skin to skin, 
forbidden to us now.
Candlelight flickers, 
shimmering off my hair, 
making it seem like fire.
The dance makes us sway, 
swirling about 
one another. 
The other couples 
gaze with longing into
each others eyes, 
yet we avoid that part.
Balancing on the edge 
of the music, 
like the sharpness of a blade. 
Both denying the knife 
that twists in our hearts, 
but which is telling the truth?
The music stops, 
you bow, I curtsy, 
and once more we part.