Some nights will feel like silk.
The pressures will fade,
And your bones will heat as exhilaration rushes through your veins,
And you will shake under the bass of a song,
That soothes the vipers inside, no matter how few.

Some nights he will stick to your insides like an ailment,
Memories, that make you pull back from the notion of real love,
False moments you spit the poison of,
Poison that filled you with such fantasies,
And the notion will fade further.

Some nights will be good, smooth, easy.
Others will feel like sandpaper,
Grains of past and present itches,
Dragging along skin--peeling layers back,
Until you are raw.

But each night, unfailingly,
There will be a cloak of a crushed velvet blue so deep,
And just as in every feeling you've ever met,
Its depth will bring beauty and fear.
For the most prolifically messy thing,
A thing we all cannot resist yearning for,
Is what we find in the night sky,
Something we cannot touch,
A something that is in every love we wish to keep but cannot,
A piece of eternity.

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