light wait.

this balcony is weighed down by a moth's shadow,
a heavy flutter across the burgundy of tiles.
miles of crossroads linked and trapped
by dusk's shaded lines,
and my silhoutte begrudgingly keeps me company.
the best kind, too, to never interrupt
or misinterpret my intentions,
or even complain of the distant barks of the neighboring dogs.
and then, the absence of movement. it creates a welcoming lull,
and my muted shadow extends her hand cautiously.
svelte fingers reach and curl (careful. careful.)
my breath is caught on nothing and anticipation.
my shadow grins.
she gently grasps the albino moth, deliberate and cruel,
meticulous in suppressing its cries.
its chalked wings crack and dust into the cracks.
accomplished and content? not tonight.
this balcony is too small for regret.

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