i am a concrete project amidst
handsome skyscrapers, like titans
of yore, 'yore', a word
which hasn't been used since
the time it describes.

and just above my edifice,
there is a crow that circles round;
no one understands Eponine,
but everybody loves her.

Yore, yore, she would have been
a thousand times
a lover because all she
could do was
love.

i looked out my fogged-up window,
beyond the crows and urban trash,
and saw myself back in the glass,
me, Eponine,
loved by all,
seen by none.

"It's honorable to love that way,
Eponine, you lovely liar."