Writing

Night: A Love Letter

The heat of the summer air against my skin invigorates me.
Like fingertips sweeping across my body, it caresses me, hugs me, loves me.
It makes me feel something.
It makes me feel alive.

It’s dark outside, but not too dark because my guardian moon guides my way.
I sit by the ocean and trail my fingers through the cool water lovingly, basking in the memories we’ve shared.
The smooth sounds of the waves calms me and ignites me, as it whispers sweet nothings that only I can hear.
It makes me feel alive.
.

I watch as the immortal trees sway back and forth in the distance, as though they were dancing to some secret melody not meant for my ears.
The night calls to me, envelops me in its arms, sings to me and makes me whole again.
It makes me its lover as it cloaks me in its inky grasp. I welcome it, submit to it even.
It makes me feel alive.

The secrets I share with the Moon, I tell only to it because it alone understands me.
The stars spreading out across the sky, shine down brightly on me, beckoning me to come home.
I know that I’m not alone out here.
The night and I are bonded.
The night and I are one.
And I feel alive.

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