Under the city lights, we danced.
(twirl.swirl.dip.shimmy.repeat.)
The post-bar smell of stale alcohol perfumed.
The post-bar feeling of slight intoxication.
Oh, to be/feel intoxicating as well as intoxicated.
Ridiculed by the headlights of the passing cars,
not a care but for keeping rhythm amidst stupor.
Your 6 and my 3/4, we must have been a sight,
a sight for the sorest of eyes,
for my sore eyes.
SilverSeas&VictimoftheCrime.
'Twas a victimless crime,
embracing the feeling of being alive,
and put me in shackles if it was, after all,
for I will not forfeit easily this time.
Revival, renaissance, and renewal.
I was reborn under those streetlights,
andyouhavenoideawhatyouhavedoneforme.
The freshening of my tired spirit overpowered my tired limbs,
and I danced. I danced. I danced. I. Danced.
I did not want it to end, dear friend,
but basic physiological needs won in the end.
To answer your inquiry, yes, I say.
It was enough. It was the perfect amount.
As we danced, I felt the glimmer return to my eye,
the sly sparkle that has evaded my iris for what seems like an eternity.
The flush of youth&exhiliration returned alongside it.

I am alive. Alive, am I.
Je suis vivant!
I will shine and sparkle, diamond-like.
The Diamond has made her glorious&triumphant return.
Welcome her with open arms.
She has missed you dearly.