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It’s the kind of night
so humid, loose clothing sticks to your skin
The kind of night
your heart begs for more
room inside your chest
The kind of night
you recognize voices down the street
but waste no time
deciphering the words they speak.

Like a shadow shrinks creeping closer to the light
I worry
I too, will disappear in an instance
without a chance to-

Britta B.

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2 Comments

  1. I love the title and the poem is so soft and vulnerable. Beautifully romantic but melancholy I loved the constellation of emotions expressed

    • It was hard deciding if the title fit for this poem… and it’s interesting you say ‘vulnerable’. Maybe I really am getting my message across. HA. I worry too often that I’m not.
      Thanks for commenting!


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