What do you think about these heels?

The city
after everyone’s gone
is kinder.

Streetlights stay on
without asking anything.

No voices.
No faces.
No reasons.

Just roads
and thoughts
moving slowly.

They call this insomnia.

I call it
quiet.

I don’t want sleep.
I don’t want morning.

I want this hour
to keep me.

No questions.
No answers.

Just the night
and me.

Penetration ...