Envy
Her silent steps the night takes,
ink-stained fingers sculpt erotica:
she is the child of disillusionment.
Crooked smile hears the words outside her head-
within reach, but not quite.
The mirrors in her room reflect
the kohl of her achievements;
she is a stream long run dry
in desperation for agriculture.
The cigarettes blister her lips
in the careless moments of broken shards;
she is the firefly caught in the summer storm,
beckoning lights have shut the windows.
Her world towers and reproves the thought
of her in the charcoal street;
she is a flower that blooms by the roads,
feeds on the dust
and craves to be steel.
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Date: 06 / 11 / 2016
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