Under turgidtackytrite moon and pinpointpedantic stars
She contemplated the currency of feelings . . .
And the advantages of arms.
Except, she didn’t –
Contemplate.
She felt.
Fool,
Perhaps
Empty eyes
Hide motions of mind
And heart stored in clandestine cache
Inside that wooden crate of precious armaments.
So, she did safely swear by lucidlylackinglovers moon.