Fey
Can charm the petals
Off the moon
She walks in the corridors
Of confidence
I am a smear on the painting
Of her days
A drying blemish
Fey,
so strange and complicated
Drunk on Sundays
Hurting Monday
Forgetful Tuesday streets are catwalks
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday
Naked in the rain
Saturday fires her again
To slip between bodies
Fey, feet away
Untouchable by any.
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