the nightengale
in the same way that you always call me "Scarlet" when it rains, you insist that i always wear black on the eve of the new moon. "True beauty should always dress alike, and never mind a bit" you say, placing an opalescent tortoise-shell comb in my hair. you would dress in navy to compliment me, having me darken your eyelashes and tie your hair back in a ribbon of silver-white. then you would help me into my coat and offer me your arm, and we would glide like shadows into the evening of the Lady's rebirth.