Urban Design and the Need for Absinthe

She had neon red nails,
He could dream in her eyes.
That dreams u can’t own, is
A fact rarely known,
When he harnessed them one day,
Came the lies, the goodbyes.


She kept the neon red nails.
But bit her lips before she talked.
Smoky was her past tense,
The green fairy promised more sense,
Downwards she was rising,
And imagine how surprising,
To see the clouds compromising,
One day to hide her absence.


A neon red non-existence.