Inky Dance

I do not dance well with my feet. I am too self conscious and it is just a little bit too chaotic for the tiny bit of virgo in me. However get me in the ballroom of ink and paper and I flourish. I can lead across the galaxy with my words, wrap you in moonlight and surround your soul with starfire.
I do not discriminate at my papery parties. Everyone from the noble Question Mark and his blustering brother with the first name Exclamation will be there. From the proud Full Stop and his estranged Cousin, Comma. That vulgar individual Hyphen will probably be there no matter what anyone says & Oldman Ampersand will attend even though this isn’t really his crowd anymore.

So. Before I immortalize you how would you like to be dressed? A spidersilk gown is quite beautiful but awfully cliche so perhaps not. Although- Yes i have it. A dress: made from the fine cotton sheets from The Lovers’ bed at midnight of a darkmoon. A true black; a total absence of reflected light.
You’ll need a coat as it gets quite chill in The Other Realms. For this though I know just the thing; a jacket that comes down to the thighs made from obsidian plates and lined with thick white fur.
Then we can be the life of the party, The Two Wanderers dressed in black on black from either ends of the spectrum: matte, light swallowing black under iridescently glossy fire glass.
Are you ready for our dance to begin my love?
Really?
Are you sure?
Well then. Ready?
One, two, three, two, two, three…

Inky Dance

A boy called Star

Melbourne, Australia

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