The moonlight awakens the city,
as if it weren't night but day.

The gentle whir of a night drive is distant,
enveloping the sounds of the tiny night owls hoot.

She steps onto the cold linoleum floor,
feet pulsating from the ache of working.

Fingers sticky with blue ink,
open the dark French doors.

The breeze caresses every part of her body,
as her cotton dress blows away,

Revealing smooth legs,
once wrapped around her lover.

One, two, three steps,
towards the edge of the balcony.

Deep within her pockets,
she finds her treasure.

Soft lips press into the paper,
Feeling the bumpy scratches a pen had made.

One, two, three,
Slowly, it floats away into the pool of darkness.