Notes flew across the room lighting the room with a scrumptious melody that made the girl dance through the ballroom.
This empty room space was her canvas, holding her body like a paint brush of swaying colors. She danced to the beat but never to the music.
Each scrumptious melody tasted sour to her ears. She was a painter who never liked the colors.
Her moves were a beautiful monotone. Each dance step was shade of black, white and grey.
What a scene it was, captivating, if you would, she never really understood the music, to be honest.
Maybe the music never really held her hand and swayed her across the room, like how the beat does.
The only thing for sure was she was beautiful.