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Feb 2020
On the balcony
Wrapped in a blanket of humid darkness
It is almost pure the way
I melt into the wall
I see the glowing ember of a
crumpled cigarette in the distance.
And I imagine myself,
A bird with feathers
sharp as razor blades
Cutting through the thick fog like butter.

Tonight
I am above the city,
And the lights swallow me whole.
Amanda Roux
Written by
Amanda Roux
458
   Bogdan Dragos
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