Dancing Cardbord to Cardboard

My cardboard cutout dances across the floor with yours, smiling.
It is always good to dance with you,
but tonight feels different.

I can feel the touch of your hands,
but it doesn't feel like your hands.
Imperfection

I can feel their weight through my dress,
but it doesn't feel like my dress touching my skin.
Implication

I can hear the words coming from your lips,
but I am certain that they are not yours.
Impossibility

I can see your eyes,
but they are only relentless reflections of your lively eyes.
Impenetrable

We bow, and part, and promise to dance again.
We return to our places to wait our turn.
Impassively