her body houses paradoxical emotions.
she’s torn in between a foul duality,
where her longings are too unreal;
for the city to allow,
which is deafened;
by its self-conjured bedlam.
after squandering away time,
scurrying after her desires,
she drags her unwilling feet;
to her humble nest.
good doesn’t emerge by calling it upon,
it comes as an antidote to poison,
like the shimmering crescent far above,
translating its luminescence on her skin.
and suddenly, she retires into a cafard,
because the wait was too long.