Queenie

Sometimes the moon just creeps, between stars white and clear, I only hear alarms bleep, before any whispered groan, am working through my fears, parade like a troubled soul, Sommelier chefs and creeps, I drink too much beer, fallen in much too deep, what lies inside my bones, bringing up the rear, a regular girl's lost home, the five and dime is cheap, darkness hides my gear, a knife's sparkling sheath, these grey walls dance alone, what I've sought so dear, a swathe of light long gone, brought from a lonely pier.