The noise, constant, felt like a blanket
of quiet, and intrusions of silence opened
like a cut, unexpected, awful, a gaping
wound that needed to be covered lest it
allow entry into the blood. Let’s face it.
I am broken, and nothing should touch me.
I am alone, and the night surrounds me. I hear
snippets of songs blaring from cars, You
don’t know what it’s like to be me. Girls
huddle together, their laughter punctuated
by cigarettes, high heels, lipstick and hope.
The dark pulses with need, all lit by the stunning,
lonesome artificial lights that promise what it
can and cannot give, and nothing else matters,
and nobody blinks in the endless darkness