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bacque crescent

Its dark outside. only the glare from the street light depicts the plants from the street as its light cuts through tiny crystals falling from the sky like miniature lighting bolts. Thumping down on the tin roof above my head. its calm and gentle, soothing to say the least. beautiful in the most simple way. yet accompanied by an alarm which insists little children jump into bed with frightened eyes and trembling fingers and parents turn off the electricity. My eyes feel heavy. As i'm deliriously staring into space i begin to fall engulfed in egyptian cotton sheets i fall so deep so dark awaiting a response awaiting a scream something. my anticipation was wasteful. I am engulfed, devoured, nothing can compare to this. Nothing can pull me out. nothing. especially not now. Then i wake up, and the world is a beautiful place. ...and i can see you. You are the street light. I am the rain.
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Written by
adrienne-nichole-adams
American
Published
Jan 9, 2012
Lines·Words
32·158
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