Under turgidtackytrite moon and pinpointpedantic stars

She contemplated the currency of feelings . . .

And the advantages of arms.

Except, she didn’t –

Contemplate.

She felt.

Fool,

Perhaps

Empty eyes

Hide motions of mind

And heart stored in clandestine cache

Inside that wooden crate of precious armaments.

So, she did safely swear by lucidlylackinglovers moon.