La nottambula

She was leaning against a dirty wall, and blew out the smoke into

The blackened city. Her lipstick had faded away early in the

Evening when she kissed him to numb herself. She erred from one

 Bar to the next, every step enhanced the emptiness around her. She

Was looking for someone to absorb her like she absorbed the dead ends

Of the city. She craved to put her face into a straightjacket to contain her heartache.


They all touched her and she smiled, nothing had ever been so hollow and

Unintended, sickening. Every single sensation evaporated over her skin.

There was no meaning, no intent, no value. She wouldn’t allow memories to be created.

He haunted her, she would inhale the cold air and feel him there, in her abandoned

Heart, travelling through to her sex, her desire, her need to hold him, to eat up his scent.

Every step she would take felt like a blow to her heart, to their story, to sealed off endings.


“Black-haired Girl” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)

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