We danced at evening on the surface of the sun
A focused frenzy with intent to burn the star of its fuel
that we might prolong the cool evening breeze drifting through open windows
because I never grew tired of watching steam coil from her shoulders
Heart singing rhythm like an organic metronome, we stepped in time
Dancing Austen's dance - The Mr. Darcy scandal tapes
Three step movements to two step songs
Around every judgement saying we were doing it wrong
See...I don't dance. Not ever, really.
I mean real dancing, just letting go and moving.
But there have been rare occasions.
Sweet little moments in life I was overcome by emotion
By sheer absolute joy of living, and hell yes, I danced.
And it was clumsy as fuck. But I loved every second of it.
We danced to songs not made for dancing
awkward bruises, eyes rolling in the background
This dance belongs to none of you.
This dance belongs to us.
And we'll stumble and tremble and laugh
And we'll Dance Austen when we can
And yes. Our dance will end.
But I don't dance. And you made that a lie for a little while.
My feet moved in impractical ways
And while I may not now, I know I can if I want to.
And to every sneer baited with accusations of not dancing by the rules...
If I'm happy enough to dance, you'd better believe it's on terms and laws far above your understanding
And you can watch me and roll your eyes from beneath my clumsy, shuffling feet.