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In cover of night I hide my flaws
Sealed them in the blackened air
Darkness cloaks my ugly parts
Like they were never there
Nightfall disguises my ugliness in shadows so dark
Man 7d
It's humbling to look
Up at the stars, the
Gorgeous night sky.
Humbling to think,
Someone revoling one of those stars
Is staring back at me.
If there's one thing to never grow out of, it's gazing up.
Piotr Balkus Mar 7
Before I say good night,
let me say Thank You.

Don't ask me for what.
Tap Tap Tap
As each droplet falls

Tap Tap Tap
As the storm moves closer

Tap Tap Tap
A flash a light in the distance

Tap Tap Tap
The sky grows dark

Tap Tap Tap
Moments of brightness

Tap Tap Tap
The thunder follows each

Tap Tap Tap
Dylan Feb 23
Just before midnight on scant-traveled roads,
the stream of each streetlamp hypnotically flows.
No one dreads the hours ahead
for onward through darkness we silently tread.

Nocturne and noontide, our wayfaring tsoris
dissolves in the preludes of a botanical chorus.
Echoes of muzak crackle in waves
as rhapsodies soothe our youthful malaise.

Over the moorland, into the canyon,
under the silken moon.
maria Feb 23
Night comes for us all.
We watch as color and saturation leak from the world
until just a half sphere peaks in the horizon.
When the sky touches down and up rises the moon,
it is only its reflective glow that we have to light our walks.

Night comes for us all.
Whereas stimuli and light override my senses,
the coolness and silence of night dampens them,
and with it, my thoughts race.
As my body relaxes against cool sheets,
my mind is buzzing,
and my heart tiptoes from one place to another.

Night comes for us all.
United but separate, our experiences are the same.
We look at the same moon and spy the same stars.
We linger on the same wishes,
and in the anonymity that darkness grants,
we dream and ponder and hope
that something hears us, sees us.
And in that dark anonymity of night,
that subtle weight we constantly carry grows,
and we are anchored to the Earth’s core.

Night comes for us all.
We wait for it to pass,
yet every day, we welcome it gladly
for rest or fresh eyes.
It is a gift and a gurney,
a calm and a casket.
Night is what we make it,
and night is what we need it to be.
Poetic Eagle Feb 22
I missed too many dreams
On all the nights l allowed your memories to take my sleep
Cried too many too many tears
I almost feel empty
Midnight thoughts
Dylan Feb 22
I want to keep all of the words
that find me in wonder and fear.

Spectral fingers reach for mine
but slip through my hand into the dark.
I fascinate from afar
as night pulls away their billowing skin
and wipes away their misty faces.

Ghosts ahuddle on an ivied bridge
poised in pearl-white robes.
Empty eyes and trembling hands
brush through the stream invisibly;
nothing to touch, no one to see.

Pebbles stare back as ripples unfold
into reflections of the weak and cold.
Dylan Feb 21
I've dreamt your hands painting the twilight
and folding my epistle into a rose.
So many pages stained with black coffee,
so many poems limned with doting prose.

I've dreamt the fragrance of warm linens,
your patterned quilt and sleepy eyes.
Ever so slowly, the pink-clad nimbus
wheels across lavender skies.

I've dreamt the embrace of limpid waves
breaking upon the charcoal shore
and as I'm wrapped within moonlit shallows
my gaze shall cascade into yours.
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