The fur tickles my eye lids,
as I pull the hood over my head.
Laughter is the song I’m dancing too.
Twirling through the court yard
beneath blocked out stars,
and gazes of faceless onlookers.
All the same in their lines.
Skirts too short I can see
the flesh of inner thighs I’d rather not.
As they wait to grind to music.
They assume is better than laughter,
better than the music
pulsing in my veins.
So I twirl all the faster,
for being free from faceless lines.
Watching the midnight skirt
swirl around my legs.
And wrap myself in artificial lights,
that block out the stars above.