first dance

If there’s a boy who asks you to be his first dance, gives you a warm smile, looks at you as if you’re the most beautiful girl that night and for every night from here on out, takes your hand lightly, holds it ever so gently, pulls you close and whispers “please,” say no.

Ask to be his last dance instead.

Because no one comes after the last.

But there is always a second after the first.

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