She dances the same way she has sex.

Closes her eyes, moving to a beat she wishes wasn't just in fairytales & songs on the radio.

Runs her hands through her hair, parts her lips, (singing fragments of songs, a word in a line & half a chorus.)

The beat flows through her.

Sweating out misery, breathing in fragments of other peoples worlds

It's what keeps her heart beating and her feet off the ground,

She doesn't dance for you.

But it's her hands on you, her fingers playing tunes with your emotions,

(when its dark and your parents are out and in denial of teenagers. Like they grew up, forgot, closed the window.)

She whispers song words in your ear. She breathes b.e.a.t.s but she won't let you play music

"No" she says and the aftershock drums through your head

She laughs, smiles, covers it up with kisses, runs her fingers through your hair

It's just not the same she thinks.

She's in love with melodies,

Not you.