I'm
lost
in a daydream—
waiting
for
something,
anything,
in front of me
to
explode.

Maybe because
she’s an inconstant moon;
she’s broken now,
but she’ll come around soon.

These days,
I feel like

I
am

an unfit
piece
of puzzle
nobody asks
for

an unfixed
shoelace
nobody cares
to tend
to

an unused
waiting shed
in the middle
of
nowhere

an unplayed
ferris wheel
amidst
a carnival

a shimmering
mirrorball
in an empty club

—alone.