she is confidence in shadows

night is me, she says.

she is confidence in shadows, navel full of moonlight,

lips parted and dreaming at the windowsill.

in darkness she is an outline to be envied, a handful of diamonds

shaking off the dust,

a glimmer with no sun.

where there is nothing to be seen

she sees a vision of herself

braided into strands of silk like

a delicate world wonder, a towering element

of temporary strength.

night is a pastime she keeps

in the linen closet.

confidence is a distant friend

that glows when no one is watching.